While the passage of time is constant and measurable, our perception of it is certainly not. It's January 27 and, looking forward, it seems like April is forever and a world away. But looking back, just three short months ago I was putting up Christmas lights. It hardly seems that it's been that long. Three months from now, give or take a few weeks, we will be in the midst of another season. The quest to find the first will begin, our eyes will readjust to the textures of the woods, and we will traipse the woods amid the arrival of the fleeting colors and sweet warbles of songbirds and amid the bursting buds that become another year's leaves. Like the earth itself, we also will reawaken. Last year never got going until early May in Washington County; just a few years back it began on April 1. I was literally born a shroomer, so this will be my 55th season. Instinct--or is it wishful thinking?--suggests that this will be an early season; after all, winter weather arrived somewhat early...so if averages prevail, so will spring. My impulse is to head to the woods now and make mental note of my territory. I'll do that. The rhythm of the seasons will play out as it will. Anyone else feeling instinct or impulse?