Poor little lintless things

I was out the door at 9:30 this morning to run a bunch of critical errands -- bank, post office, gas station, grocery, etc. -- and was confronted with what looked to be about a quarter inch of frost all over the van's windows. I turned it on to warm up, with the front and rear defrosters blazing away and got smartly down to business with the scraper and brush.

While I was scratching away at the glass, I stopped and listened to a familiar yet still unexpected sound. Bird song! It sounded so sweet, coming from everywhere around me, peeping, cheeping, chirping and tweeting. I know much of it must be coming from the robins I've been seeing about the place: on a bare branch rocking in a chilly breeze, flying with a wisp of something-or-other in a beak for purposes of nest construction, strutting in their cheeky fashion on the grass while hoping to find wormsicles in the yard. Spring IS coming, it really is!

But gosh, those poor little birds. Surely they couldn't have thought that spring was actually here yet, in this benighted place where it is not unknown for us to have a brief, dramatic snowfall in the first week of April. I've been thinking of laying out the dryer lint for them, in the hopes that they can make their new nests cozy and warm.

My husband thinks I've lost my mind and I suspect him of sneaking out to the dryer when I'm not looking and gathering up the lint before I have a chance to get to it.