Hope Springs eternal

It has finally stopped raining on Cape Cod. April has held a razor’s edge to our throats with cutting winds and pelting rain smudging the skies for weeks. Although it is hard to remember, the giant Klieg light glaring down from above... is the sun. I kid you not. How quickly after the switch gets turned on does our behavior brighten. Suddenly there is a cause for hope. The birds are numerous and colorful at the feeder, not just the black, white and grays of the winter months, and their appetite’s are voracious. Even a wild turkey sauntered through the yard the other morning to add to my picture window life list. The flowers, timid as they might be to enter the dance a little too early, are ready to Cha Cha, and sing. I can’t remember the forsythia taking this long to golden up though. Come on guys give us some color. Why even the Red Sox...(Note: Speaking of color. Theo, please have the boys keep the green shirts in the lockers as much as possible. I appreciate the genuflect to the great Red-Man Friday night, may his soul rest in the rafters of the old Garden forever, but my television control dials are still askew trying to figure out why the Bo Sox, who these days wear their pants down low to hide them, have suddenly got a Christmas look to them.) Sorry, I digress. The old town team have found good fortune so far this weekend against the Evil Empire. Today will be a great chance for us to see what the new kamikaze kid from the Land of the Rising Sun can do against the dreaded Rankee's. Will he crash and burn, or will it be Bronx Bombers away. Please, please let it be the latter. And one last thing before I head out to my son’s Little League practice, gosh I salivate just typing that. It’s getting to be time to clean out the tackle box, and cut and re-tie the lures for surely on any tide now the Sound will be full of stripers again. So it goes. Another Cape Cod winter may be coming to an end. As winter’s go it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but enough is enough, let’s move on.