The oaks are in bud, wasps are out roaming, flies are being flies, mud squishes between your toes, and the robins have returned to make their usual ruckus.
Signs of Spring
Flashing back to my youth, I well remember being enthralled by the rush of meltwater through the culvert running under Highway 11 and the mini-flood through the small wooded area we called 'The Ditch'.
I revisited The Ditch a few years back and while wandering through, I found some of our ancient toys still there in the floral rubble. The anthropologist in me mused at the advanced culture that frolicked there in man's early history. I often wonder what happened to these individuals.