An Iowa Garden

I've always been a glass half-full, rather than half-empty kind of fellow, a trait I suspect was inherited from my Mother, as cheerful and placid a soul as there ever was, under all circumstances; she always looked on the bright side of every occasion... I thought of this today; the first day that the temperature has risen above freezing for three weeks, with warmer temperatures forecast: we keep our spare sodas in a closet in the garage, and with these frigid temperatures we've been having, one can just go out and grab a soda out of the closet, and it is cold enough to drink. Today, when I went out there for a Pepsi, for a moment I had a pang of regret, thinking that I'd now have to take the trouble to keep the refrigerator stocked if I wanted a cold drink... then I laughed at the thought. I took my soda with me out to the garden for a walk (we actually call soda, "pop" here in the upper Midwest, but I don't want to confuse readers from other parts of the country). This was my first walk around in a couple of weeks and the snow made walking about the paths slow work, but everything looked surprisingly good. I was particularly concerned about the lepidote and elepidote rhododendrons, which in cold, snowy winters can get bad leaf burn, but they looked fine, with little leaf damage, and fat buds. The sun felt delightful on my face, the woodpeckers were all tap-tapping cheerfully on the trees, and then I heard a sound I've been listening for: the call of the Carolina wren. These little birds are known to die off here at the northern end of their territory in severe winters, and I've been concerned that I'd not seen or heard them since the frigid air descended on us. The bright, ringing call of - teakettle-teakettle - was being broadcast up and down the ravines as if the last three weeks of record-setting cold weather was nothing: the Carolina wren and I have a completely full glass today.