It's spring - almost

March 20th is the first day of spring, but not for me. I just read an anecdote in a wonderful book from 1951 called North with the Spring by Edwin Way Teale. One morning during his spring trip up the East coast of America, Teale observed a fat man in a rage throw a black kitten over a porch rail. When the kitten crept back up the steps to its ‘home’ the fat man, still in a rage, twisted the kitten "as though wringing a towel and hurled it over the rail" again. The kitten limped away as Teale comments on "a winter of the spirit that no spring could touch." 60 years have passed but the sadness and pain of this inhumaneness still touches me. What about you? I feel a wellspring of discontent.