Look around, leaves are brown, there's a patch of snow on the ground

It was in the 50's today, and even though the sunlight was pale and weak as though someone had poured skim milk over the sky, it was the first day in the long time when going up to the park on a weekend morning was a reasonable thing to do.

That didn't mean I wanted to. Oh no -- I thought of a hundred perfectly good reasons why I ought to stay in bed and have another cup of coffee and enjoy my Saturday morning rather than trudging through the slush and the mud. But I have missed the birds, and I'm contemplating a major life change that has me very anxious, and unsure about what I should do, and the park is always both a tonic and a tranquilizer. So I got out the big camera lens, hopped in a cab, and headed for the Ramble.

There's still snow everywhere and the lake is completely frozen, but at least the pathways in the Ramble have been cleared of ice and I could walk over to the feeders without feeling as though I was taking my life in my hands. It was mostly the usual winter visitors -- finches and woodpeckers and sparrows -- but they felt like old friends I hadn't visited in a while.

This evil, endless winter isn't giving up without a fight, but you can feel it: it's finally, finally almost over.