Slowly signs of spring are revealing themselves. They're subtle signs, but they're there. Maybe calling them signs of spring is a little too strong. Perhaps it would be best to call them signs of not-winter, of winter-end. As Robert Kroetsch wrote in his poem "Seed Catalogue":
Then it was spring. Or, no:
then winter was ending.
For now the air is a little softer, a little milder. Also, it's snowing. While this is usually a sign of winter, up here for much of the winter it's too cold to snow. The birds are now making their presence known. There's a bit more life in the tree branches as the chickadees have come out of hiding. The sun has some warmth. The other day I noticed the eaves were dripping.