In our area of the Mid Hudson Valley, something wondrous is happening. In spite of the train horns from both sides of the river, in spite of the garbage trucks and the occasional pounding of renovations, in spite of politics and the bullishness or bearishness of the market, the colors are coming out, and the birds usher them in with song. It’s warm enough! It’s warm enough to go outside and discharge ourselves of all the fears we cultivated this winter, listening to the news, listening to our wound up friends who always seem to have something to say about how society is crumbling and the world is coming to an end. Going outside, you will have the opportunity, instead, to listen to an eternal poem unfolding. Each and every line – a tweeting bird, the wind moving through the grass, a leaf wondering on the pavement – can tell you all you ever wanted to know about your future, and the cradle of creation from whence you came. This beautiful place holds so many gifts, available and calling us each and every day. It’s a good time to listen.