Returning

 

 Instead of slogging through snow, we're traipsing through mud. Ordinarily this path, hardened by the winter cold, would be slick-- icy, treacherous. Instead it is soft and filled with puddles. In a few months the colors will lose their muted tones and a brightness will pervade the scene. For several months the ponds will be clear of pervasive weeds. A heron, a yearly visitor, will stand watch. 

I look forward to seeing the usual returnees. Sure I'm not certain that the same denizens revisit each year.

It's similar to reconnecting with people you haven't seen for a period of time. Sometimes you're elated and other times disappointed.