Spring is in the trees

It is winter in Massachusetts, where I live.

Since the start of the year only one day in five has cracked the freezing point of water. We've got snow in the forecast, and the snow will fall on the snows of older storms.

Before there are apples, there are buds.

But if you look at the tips of the fingers of the trees, there is color and life.

Small birds flock now in the bare trees and bushes and sometimes there is the honk of passing geese or the low keening of the mourning doves.

The trees are only sleeping. And they remember.