The progress of spring on the Island is an annual matter of two steps forward and one step back. Perhaps that's why we count our harbingers so carefully, tallying them up on our seasonal ledger sheet as reassuring evidence to be balanced against each inevitable setback.

We have heard the pinkletinks calling in the boggy hollows on afternoons lit by a warming sun. Early morning winds can still bluster from the northeast, chillingly enough to make the walker regret storing their winter coat in the upstairs closet. But nothing can erase the bright blooms of forsythia and daffodils on lawns now showing the first signs of new greening. The buds are fat on roadside bushes, and the birds proclaim the season in their full morning chorus.