I'm Italy Mone and this is the Slowdown.

How many of us have been waiting patiently or not so patiently for spring, for everything

to bloom, for the trees to leaf out, for the animals that have been hiding all winter

to come streaming through the yard in bursts of fur and feathers?

I know I have.

Lately, each morning when I walk the dog, I feel desperate for warmth, for the good news

that sun brings.

Even the dog seems excited for the days when she doesn't need a sweater to keep her warm.

The winter, the long winter here, is fading, and maybe where you are, the early spring flowers

have bloomed, and perhaps it's almost time to put a few plants in the ground, the lettuces,

the radishes, all the things that are easily nibbled upon by the rabbits and squirrels.

Each spring I have a battle with a stubborn robin who wishes to build her nest on our front

porch light.

Each year I put up a shiny tin milagro of a sacred heart, a tiny heart-shaped charm to

dissuade her from nesting in such a precarious spot.

I think the reflection of it, the shininess of it, will make her turn around and nest elsewhere.

Still, she comes, eager to lay her eggs on a porch light.

I'll admit this, each year she wins, before I've even gathered the strength to remove

the first layer of long grasses and threads she's gathered, suddenly, as if overnight,

a gorgeous sturdy nest is built.

And of course, my husband and I agree that all spring we just won't turn the porch light

on.

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