Bluebirds are among the sweetest of birds to me: their extraordinary, unusual (in these climes) color, the shape of their body, their flight movement, their song. Their reappearance in early- to mid-March signals spring, and I am always sad to see them depart, usually sometime in November.
My latest 2015 fall sighting of them was December; this morning, February 7, a pair was checking out one of the houses– maybe the same pair who nested there last year– a full month earlier than usual. How mild the winter has been. And, looks like I need to get those houses cleaned out sooner than I normally would.
Grace and sweetness in their sighting; both concern at the strange weather pattern and gratitude for the less than harsh conditions the winter has thus far brought, especially given the past few.
Spring is a ways off yet, though. I will trust the bluebirds know what they are doing. And meditate on the hope their colorful wings carry.