On Monday I turn the page on my desk calendar to March. With fingers crossed, I hope for no more big snows and a slow melt eliminating what remains. And I dream of days, just a few weeks from now, when I'll enjoy...

• Longer days and shorter nights. Gentle rains. Gelatinous egg masses deposited by frogs, toads and salamanders in almost every vernal pond. Kingfishers and great blue herons fishing every day, without a license and with no limits.

• Blooming crocuses, daffodils, forsythias, and coltsfoot (the bright yellow flower that's easily confused with dandelion, which will soon follow). Morels under dead elm and apple trees.

• Turkey vultures kiting on rising thermals. Six-foot rat snakes basking on sun-baked country roads. Goldfinches molting from their drab winter plumage into brilliant lemon drops. Tent caterpillars.

• Turkeys gobbling. Grouse drumming. Squirrels barking. Screech-owls whistling. Coyotes yipping.

• The shocking brilliance of Baltimore orioles, scarlet tanagers, indigo buntings and red efts. The incredible camouflage of gray tree frogs, woodcock, copperheads and hen mallards.

• Ground hogs munching roadside greenery. A phoebe building a nest on the porch light fixture. Killdeer scurrying about on lawns, parking lots and cemeteries. Baby cottontails scampering across the yard. Chipmunks raiding the bird feeders.

• Butterflies in hay fields. Meadowlarks singing on fence posts. Box turtles crossing country roads. Barns swallows and kingbirds returning to local farms. Mourning doves cooing on a power line. Dragonflies, damselflies, tree swallows, yellowthroats and red-winged blackbirds patrolling territories in a cattail marsh.

• At dusk, bats patrolling the yard, a chorus of spring peepers and the sweet yodel of a wood thrush singing vespers. An evening serenade by a whip-poor-will, one of those considerate birds that calls its own name. Nighthawks sweeping insects from the sky over city streets. Big fat toads hunting moths and beetles beneath the porch light. Frogs leaping across the warm roadways on a rainy night.

• Arms bloodied by multiflora rose thorns. The sound of lawn mowers and the sweet scent of freshly cut grass. Working in the yard until the day is done. Dirt under my fingernails. Washing up with brisk, hand-pumped water. Sleeping with the windows open.

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