Colder than usual. We are all pent up in this long, drawn-out spring. Our walks outside take on new meaning. The vernal pond above us is full of the white spermatophore packets of spotted salamanders, but no eggs yet. Wild leeks splash green down the sides of rich hardwood slopes, blue cohosh is pushing up long lavender stalks, and lovely hepatica is flowering, its tender leaves still curled fuzzy under the leaf litter. By night, thousands of goldfinches and others push north, by day, we hear their high twittering choruses as they rest and feed. And the first white-throated sparrows are singing their reassurance to the world.