Does anyone still watch for “the first robin of spring”?

That was a game, of sorts, growing up in western Massachusetts. Winters were so long that even a whisper of spring gave us a real lift.

Sidenote: I fondly remember the annual family activity of clearing the driveway of the half-foot or so of packed snow and ice. It was genuinely fun chipping away the giant chunks during the February thaw and again in the spring. The only other chilly activity that came close was the act of defrosting an old-fashioned non-frost-free freezer. When the big chunk fell, it was startling but cause for celebration. (I’ll move on now, lest an #OkayBoomer hashtag shows up in the Comments area.)

Even well into her 80s, Mom liked to sing When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin’ Along) as sort of a nursery rhyme. I’d be sure to call her on the phone when I saw the first robin of spring here in southern Indiana. Once, said “first robin” was perched on the fence at my parking spot at work, waiting for me. Too easy.

One spring, Mom grabbed her camera to capture her first robin sighting:

The latest batch of our family’s archival photos and papers included a handwritten poem from long ago. I’d never before seen a sample of Mom’s printing. There’s not a date on this poem; Dad thinks she was 12 or 13 when she composed it. (“Miss May A. Regan” was Mom’s beloved aunt.)

Song of the Springtime

The daffodils are coming out
Amid the grasses green;
And there are daisies all about –
And many birds were seen.

While in the woods the flowers
Are coming into view;
Refreshed by April showers,
And dripping wet with dew.

A rabbit scampers down the path
To vanish in the fern,
There’ll be frolic in the bird bath –
When our feathered friends return.

And in the garden – mid the soil –
The tiny plants appear;
And many a gard’ner there will toil,
Because the spring is here!

~ Joan Cassidy, circa 1943

The colors of early spring flowers offer a vibrancy that further shoos away the grays of late winter. Here are tulips, daffodils, and jonquils from the side of the porch:

And inside the porch, Mom cuddles granddaughter Becky in 1996:

With each visit, grandchildren (and great grandchildren) loved to check on the pair of foxes perched on the stone fence in the backyard. Occasionally, a real fox dashes through the yard.

Spring is usually a sign of rebirth and growth. The dark cloud of the worldwide coronavirus may put a damper on spring festivals and other public celebrations this year, but flowers planted years or even decades ago will continue to blossom.

And the robins will return.

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