Mild

[rejectomorph]

I hear the frogs croaking again this evening. It's odd to hear the sounds of spring at the beginning of February. All afternoon, birds chattered as they pecked at the lawn and flirted with one another from bare tree to tree. The temperature was perfect. It was the sort of day when one has no desire to linger in the shade, and even in sunlight there is a slight chill. This is the sort of fresh and invigorating weather which invites movement. Unfortunately, I had no time to go for a walk. Neither was there any work to be done in the yard, the grass remaining short and the last leaves long since raked up, and nothing needs to be watered, so much rain having fallen. So I spent most of the afternoon doing indoor chores, taking a moment now and then to go outside and observe the progress of the day, which remained light until well past five o'clock. I almost was induced to share the over-eager attitude of the camellias, a dozen of which are now blooming. I know that would be unwise. Winter is bound to be back, ending this pleasant respite of false spring.