The sound of impending springtime

I’m typing this outside on the first day nice enough to sit typing outside. As I type, I’m listening to the most reliable sound of impending springtime.

No, not the birds. The birds are often fooled by the lengthening daylight, and they had no idea what the weather was in Angeltown when they left the southern parts of the world.

No, not Kiddo#3 begging me to go play outside, nor even his shrieks of delight as we blew half a bottle’s worth of bubbles. He’s been begging for that since December.

The most reliable sound of impending springtime is the purr of the private aircraft overheard.

We live in the flight-path for the Angeltown Airport, and planes on their landing approach travel over the Philangelus household. For the entirety of wintertime, it’s been silent overhead, only the occasional jet aircraft. Private pilots, you see, care about the weather. They don’t have to be up there. If they don’t have to travel, and if the weather stinks, they won’t go up.

But it’s been months, and they’re itching. You can just tell they’re itching, watching the sky every day for clear blue, studying the weather reports, and then on the spur of the moment calling off on a personal day from their jobs in order to zip over to the airport and pull the tarp off their private set of wings.

You can fool the birds. You can’t fool the private pilots.

The pilots are back. The planes are zipping overhead. Springtime, I’m thinking, has come to Angeltown, even if only for today.


  1. Diinzumo


    There are many pilots who love winter flying when the air is calm. Provided the runway isn’t snowed under. But I can sympathize–who wants to preflight in freezing temperatures?