The snow of winter has melted away, but spring has not arrived and the air is still crisp. The woods are brown and bare; no hint of green. A hawk soars over the trees scanning the ground. Three deer wander up the valley by the creek; two are fawns, nibbling at something growing that I can’t see. A white-eared squirrel stuffs dry leaves in its mouth, carries them up the trunk of a hollow tree, and disappears inside to make a nest. At dusk, a young raccoon ambles by, not minding that I watch.