Spring is coming. On the mountain things are melting. There is trickling under the grass and rushing in the stream as all the melt water courses downward. And there is mud, squishing and squelching under foot. Snow still lies in patches in the woods, but it is different snow, that gritty, sandy snow which I think must come from cycles of warm and cold. You can feel the difference in the gentle warmth of the sun, and the birds are unmistakably pleased. We may well get more winter weather, and we’ve hard our fair share of remarkably mild days this winter, but I can tell something has changed. Spring is coming; it’s on its way.