I always look for robins this time of year. They usually show up before the snow is completely gone, just on the edge of spring. When I see them I know that the worst of winter is over. The coldest days are behind us and soon the air will be filled with the scents of lilac and apple blossoms.
I was recently out with my neighbor when I spotted my first robin sitting atop a branch on the cottonwood that lives in our front yard. I gasped (yeah, it was a gasp, what about it?) and pointed it out to the neighbor. He was polite about it, like, "Uh, yep there it is." I knew that perhaps we were not kindred spirits as he clearly did not understand what a robin signifies. I felt a little sheepish for expressing joy like a freshman drama major (you know I love you thespians) and changed the subject as I kept an eye on that robin with the bright eyes winking at me from the tree.
Since then we have seen many a robin hanging around the house and yard. Yesterday Cordelia and I watched a robin hop onto our wheelbarrow and help itself to a drink of fresh rainwater that had collected there.