Night is turning to day earlier now and the birds wake me up. The temperature is mild at 45 degrees, so I drink my coffee on the deck. The air is moist and coats objects with its wetness.
I stroll around the yard and through the garden, marveling at how quickly weeds move in. This is the spot. I crouch and clear some weeds. There it is–a rhubarb leaf. I pull the rest of the weeds around it, giving it room to grow.
Spring is here.