Signs of spring

Yesterday my sister--yes, the one with the lovely snowflake tattoo, which I would showcase on my blog if she were to send me a picture of it--said that I seemed to be having writer's block. It's more like blogger's block, but she has a point. Whining about being too busy cuts no mustard with Susan, and with good reason. She knows that I have time to do other things.

Like running with my pal and fellow kids' book writer, Alice. Once a week, through rain, sleet, snow, and sometimes even sunshine, we run in beautiful Meadowbrook Park. Two loops through the park--with a recreated tallgrass prairie and groves of trees, bisected by a creek and featuring sculptures scattered throughout--is four miles and plenty of time to talk about writing, family, and politics.

This morning, we ran in a cool gray misty rain--and everywhere I looked, there were signs of spring. There seemed to be red-winged blackbirds on every other stalk of prairie grass, filling the air with their chirr-chirrs. Pheasants and robins were out in force, and I saw a hawk with a white breast--too large for a red-tailed hawk, it seemed. (I wonder if anybody who might be reading this and taking an ornithology class at Macalester would know what kind of hawk it was.) And then, most surprising, a good-sized crawdad in the middle of the concrete running path. I picked up the confused little guy, his claws waving furiously, and put him back by the nearby creek.

I suppose spring makes everyone a little foolish at times.

When I got back from my run I spotted these snowdrops peeking through the leaves in my front border. Yes, we're all ready for spring.