Winter seems to have gone on a little too long this year. May is nearing its end and still there is snow in the shadowy parts of the forest. Weather was sharper, windier, wilder than in the past. The trees look lifeless. I long to see their pale flags fluttering in the summer breeze. I watch the crows claiming dominion over the stand of poplars behind the cottage and I can see the solid shape of the mountains running beyond the road. Soon those rocky heights will be hidden behind a screen of green. I look closely at the scrubby trees by the path to the beach, and feel a budding sense of hope; spring is here.
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