The rites of Spring are upon us. Sometimes the arrival of spring and the rites associated with it are as elevating and as clanging to the senses as Igor Stravinsky's memorable like-named musical composition. We are elated when we hear and see the arrival of the first robins, see geese returning to the north. And we are impatient with the stubborn presence of ice and snow reluctant to leave.

But yesterday for the first time we wore ordinary hiking boots on our daily walk in the woods, finally shedding our winter boots with their add-on cleats, simply avoiding those portions of the trails still sheathed in thick ice.

And this morning, a bright sunny mid-April spring day, absent yesterday's briskly cold wind, there was a racket outside on the road as the municipality sent out equipment to clean the roads of winter detritus. I spoke to the usual people who come around to clean the exterior windows and they'll arrive toward the end of the month to do just that.

And I've finished goading and prodding myself to stop my usual spring procrastination and begin the household spring cleaning. Among which chores was to turn over our bed mattress, put on another mattress covering, store the puffy duvet for retrieval next winter, and dress the bed anew with fresh, bright springtime coverings.

A spirited pick-up, and about time.