The turkeys arrived on March 29 at our house.
That was the morning the valley turned into an amphitheater of gobble-gobble. Their calls bounced off the trees and hills like a bunch of Romans watching Daniel fend off the lions.
It was a glorious roar, although lacking the distinctive voice of T. Rex.
T. Rex is short for Turkey Rex. He is a big bird, although I havenít seen him. But I have heard him. He must have a special spot in front of a cave filled with just the right qualities. Either that or he picked up a megaphone from Uncle Donnyís old junk pile.
When T Rex gobbles -- itís more like a roar, I guess -- it shoots up the valley and explodes through the air. You can almost see the coffee in your cup get those little ripples like in Jurassic Park.
The turkeys made me realize with a smile of relief that spring is actually here. Itís been a bleak winter for some reason, and it seemed like the grass and goldfinches would never start to turn. But both those things happened last week too.
Those four bluebirds on the highline wire down the road didnít hurt either. Or the garlic plants that I had pushed into the ground last fall. There they were on Saturday, green shoots the size of your little finger, stretching into the rain.
Mom reported seeing little red rhubarb plants at her house too. She calls them ìnubbins,î which is kind of a fun word that has a lot of spring in it.
Alex and Laura made the arrival of spring complete on Saturday. Alex, my nephew, had been scheming for two months to propose to Laura, which is about a year later than the rest of us were hoping. (Yes, we are nosey relatives.) He is a patient man, and luckily, Laura is a patient woman.
Alex and I walked into the woods on Saturday morning to scout out a spot for his big plan. We found a decent place, down the hillside, away from the road, with the valley slipping toward the river.
He went back a second time with his brother, John, to confirm the choice and lay in a few supplies: a bottle of champagne, two glasses, a blanket on which to kneel.
The third time was the charm, with the right person, and it seemed like the birds chirped just a little louder while we sat in the house, me, Cindy, John, Kathy, Jim, trying not to smile too broadly at the thought of Alexís grand proposal, and Lauraís equally graceful acceptance. Thatís what happened.
Itís hard to explain what it means when you say that people ìglow.î Itís a cliche, and Iíve used the phrase many times. But I saw it in person last Saturday when Alex and Laura returned to the house. That was it. They were glowing. Their feet might have been on the floor, but Iím not sure of it. Laura showed everyone her beautiful ring. Alex smiled with pride and joy. I guess we all did. There were lots of hugs and handshakes and tears.
The glow will stay for a while too. It is hanging on through the gusty wind and rain this Monday morning. It will last through the rise and fall of Lake Ponchetrain, which now stands in front of our garage. The ball is in motion, the earth is spinning again. T. Rex is calling. Spring and love are in the air.

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