Rain overnight has reduced our Good Friday snow to a lacy patchwork in the woods, so much cleaner and paler than the old snows of winter.

Clear and cold. A song sparrow sings half again faster than usual—”Hip hip hurrah boys, spring is here!”—as if he really means it this time.

Windy and cold. The last three dots of snow visible from the porch have disappeared in the night. Overhead, a small window opens onto blue.

One degree above freezing, and something part-way between rain and snow is coming down, already half-melted, making an audible shush.

First crystal-clear morning in weeks. I sit watching the sunlight move through the trees and a distant jet trailed by nothing but its roar.

Yellow sun in an overcast sky: how is this possible? It lasts for a couple minutes before fading into a bright smudge in a net of branches.

Bare ground now predominates in the woods, and the ditches are loud with snowmelt. Two gangs of crows meet in the air, yelling, circling.