Hope in a meadow lark’s song

Like most Kansans I’m as anxious to find a sign of spring as a hot stock-tip.

Wednesday morning three of us were touring Osborne County food plots, each taking our deserved turns at complaining about this never-ending winter, when I heard the unmistakable call of a meadow lark.

Looking north, I saw the bird on a stone fence post, chest puffed, beak open and upward.

It only called a few times before flushing.

But at least for those few seconds the temperature seemed to warm and plants seemed to green.

And now I’m anxiously awaiting spring more than ever.