In the middle of winter, I start having visions of flowers. Of buds pushing up from thawing soil. Of color spreading where lately has been only brown or white. Maybe its the steady rain of garden catalogs arriving in my mailbox that stimulates my botanical imagination. Winter's the right time to start planning a bountiful garden for birds. The cardinal on the hawthorn twig must receive intimations from his own sources, for he has started singing again on sunny mornings, tentative phrases for now. He knows too. Spring is coming.