Training Scrub-Jays to trust you is time consuming work. I've been tossing peanuts to them from the doorway all winter. Now the couple waits and watches from their nearby home in the back shrubbery, and even if I pass the doorway, they come out to watch and wait.
The vast grassland stretched out into a perfect spring day. An eagle soared, a heron and egret fished. I needed nothing else from the world for just that moment.
Today the grandkids and I buried one of the baby scrub jays that live in the tall line of arborvitae lining the upper edge of our backyard.
All of Portland loses its mind on a day like this. We head out to soak up a winter's worth of soul sustaining sunshine. It's the promise that yes, change will come, even if it rains all the rest of this week. It's the acknowledgement that we did survive whatever personal hell was our winter.