The time between seasons–specifically the time between winter and spring–can be hard. We are ready for daffodils and a bright sun cutting through the sharp blue cold air. It is time for planting dried peas and opening the bee hives to see if the first nectar is in and queen is laying. Each day brings a check on the weather and the almost physical yearning to pull aside the mottled straw stems of the phlox and bee balm to see the new growth breaking through the cold ground. But the temperatures still linger near freezing and the dirty snow melts into a grey muck of a landscape–bare trees and tangled brush, last year’s flower pots in a jumble on a corner of the deck, a scattering of leftover leaves. It took a brave sparrow landing on the pot of thyme on the top railing, indulging in an organic herbal feast to remind me–spring is budding whorls of tangy sweetness waiting for a discerning eye.