We have heard the pinkletinks calling in the boggy hollows on afternoons lit by a warming sun. Early morning winds still bluster from the northeast, chillingly enough to make the walker regret any lapses or omissions in bundling up. But nothing can erase the bright blooms of daffodils along stone walls, or on lawns now showing the first signs of new greening. The buds are fat on roadside bushes, and the birds proclaim the season in their full morning chorus.