This morning I woke to find our house wrapped in a cloud.

You could call it "gloomy". Or "depressing". Or simply "foggy" (and a hassle for driving in).

Or not.

You could say it's magical. Beautiful. A walking dream.

I guess it just depends on your vantage point.

I saw the fog and in all honesty had a quick moment of "but we have to go somewhere this morning". But then I woke to the beauty of this day and choose to see with my heart – if I could just take a moment to slow down.

And so I stepped out into the cloud, still wearing my pajamas.

And deep within that mist this morning, far beyond my gaze I heard more birds than I've heard all spring. Different birds. Some that I know, some that I didn't even recognize. And they were all singing their hearts out. Not one of them had a thing to complain about.

Even now as I type from within these walls I can still hear them.

What a gift.

There is always beauty, isn't there?

We just have to stop. Breathe. And listen for it.

It's out their singing away, if we'll only stop to listen.

Because you know, spring will come again. It always does.

And the fog will lift.

But until then I won't be grumbling about the cold and snow in April.

Instead I'll be outside, listening for the birds.