I noticed my first robin this year about a week ago, when the rains had turned the earth to goo and the worms were wriggling to the surface, gasping for air. It was a bounteous feast for Mr. & Mrs. Redbreast, that's for sure!
I love how the robins appear every year at the height of winter gloom, bringing with them the hope of spring. Their cheerful, upright little forms decorate the drab lawns and fields with splashes of bright rusty breasts and yellow beaks, their black button eyes gazing about with keen intent. They hop across the grass, cock their heads, and plunge with deadly accuracy, yanking juicy morsels from the ground as easily as I select apples from a bin.
If only I could learn to regularly find such treasures buried in the mud of my daily existence! I often exclaim that I feel like I'm running through mud, trying to get to the "real" stuff of life, but slowed down by the mundane and dreary landscape of household chores and the less scintillating responsibilities of motherhood.
My goal today is to think like a robin. There's got to be some yummy delight buried in this muck!
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