Whistling in the dark

[A mockingbird on an orange tree in Cocoa, Florida]

While recovering from my bout of labyrinthitis, I haven't felt much like working on the computer at all. In fact, all I seemed to do during my two weeks off was read - nothing too taxing though - mainly novels from the Rebus series by Ian Rankin. TEN of them in fact!! (Just seven to go.)
For variety I did read one other book, "Being Emily" by Anne Donovan. It was good fun, although for those of you who are not native to the West of Scotland, but would still like to read the book, it might have been helpful if there had been a version with "English subtitles."
But...whatever... the reading is over. This week it has been a case of 'back to work.'
I still get tired so I'm trying not to do too much.
Extra sleep, of course, is usually beneficial when recovering from any illness.
I wonder how I can get that point across to some of the feathered residents of our garden? Four o'clock this morning they began their 'dawn chorus.' (In other words, long before the dawn.)
It seemed kind of strange to me, given that the temperature was about -5 degrees and there is still snow on the ground. But some of our local birds have already decided that spring is on its way.
They must have read Shelley: "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?"
Actually, for me this thought is a central theme of the Christian faith. Sometimes it seems as if Christians are simply "whistling in the dark" but, like the birds, we whistle and sing in the dark only because we know the dawn is on its way.