Betwixt and between

It seems as we move haltingly between one season and the next, winter is loathe to give up its grip. One day the ground is warmed by sunny, cloudless skies. The battalions of returning migrant robins, grackles, blackbirds and starlings take advantage of the exposed brown earth as they spread out over the pasture searching for grubs and insects. They search endlessly, poking the earth, turning over leaves and small sticks in hopes of finding a delicious morsel to consume. Then the air turns cold and one wakes up to a world of white covering the fields and the bare branched trees under a leaden sky. This contest for seasonal dominance continues weekly through the month of March and into April. We know what the eventual outcome will be as spring aided by its constant ally the ever present sun wins out in the end.