Red-wing

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Harbinger

I borrowed a word from Amy, my sister, and to be totally honest, I had to look it up. It tells of things to come. The first frost is a harbinger of winter. In Durango where I grew up, the putt-putt car was a harbinger of the narrow-gauge train soon to come steaming down the tracks. When Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog, saw his shadow, it foretold of 6 more weeks of winter. But here in the San Francisco Bay Area, the Red-winged blackbird, the undisputed harbinger of Spring, says winter is done.

As the blanket of morning fog melts under the bright morning sun, the earth begins to warm, and the sounds of the marshlands come alive. You hear them first belting out their distinctive, shrill songs in among the colorful blue, yellow, and purple flowers blooming on the Southwest sides of the greening hills. The growing light reveals the signature red patches on their wings. The air seems fresher this morning. Spring is in the air. A harbinger told me so.