This morning I awoke to the sun shining through the trees on the eastern horizon. A cloud bank was moving in from the west. Fro a brief moment the tops of the western trees were gilded with that early morning glow. The maples bedecked in their red blossom glowed a luminous orange, the pines a silvery green, and the oaks a gold.
By the time I went for my walk the clouds had overtaken the entire sky. Sometimes a clouded sky makes for better clarity on the ground; there is not the harshness of the sun, nor the glare when facing into it. It was quiet in the woods today. Not much bird song, until one moment when I stopped below a dead pine trunk and heard a robin burst forth in gleeful song. I was expecting a moment of stillness when I stopped, but that stillness was shattered by joy and glee. I have been stressed and somber lately; I thank that robin for reminding me to be joyful.

It is still chilly in the mornings, and I walked quickly, in part because I was cold, in part because I was invited to have breakfast with my daughter upon returning from the walk. I liked the idea of spending some time talking with her. The dog and I did flush a partridge, we see many on our walks—or maybe we see a few many times. It is looking like the beaver are deciding not to rebuild their dams in one of the places they had one last summer. The winter’s ice and high water have broken all three. Tonight I should walk down to the swimming hole to see if they are still around that much. There are still no green shoots of grass for them to forage. They must be eating what they have stored or have found small saplings to nibble on. I don’t see any signs of new chewings on my loop, I will need to explore further away to see where they are. Sounds like a walk for this weekend.