The briefest opening in the clouds for sunrise. The first brown thrasher drops by to sing a few bars. Then the squeaky wheels of goldfinches, converging on my mother’s feeders.
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I watch every spring for the arrival of the goldfinches — not here in the northwest yet, but nice to glimpse them in your lines.
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They are pretty much year-round here, though I’m not sure the ones we have in the winter are the same ones that nest (starting in midsummer).