Springtime in December

The weather this morning is unbelievable.  Just three days before Christmas and I am sitting on my front porch, watching the diffused light of the dawn slowing illuminate the yard.  I am sitting comfortably in my favorite Adirondack chair wearing a sweater, jeans and slippers.  It's an overcast, dreary morning but it's unusually warm.  There is a slight breeze that feels cool on my face and a misty, drizzle of rain, almost imperceptible at times but occasionally working itself up into a minor shower, releasing its pent up energy and returning to the gentle sprinkle.

The yard and road beyond are wet, but the porch is dry and  cozy.  The Christmas lights decorating the railing seem strangely out of place this morning.  It feels more like the beginning of spring than the beginning of winter and a vague, unsettled feeling that the decorations need to be put away occurs for a brief moment before the realty of calendar reasserts itself in my mind.   My attention is drawn to a noticeable low pitched drone that could be mistaken for a strong, wind blowing through trees.  When I realize there are no leaves on any of the trees, it becomes apparent that is the sound water rushing across a rocky riverbed. The rain and snow melt of the past few days have turned the lazy, almost silent flow of the nearby stream into a noisy, powerful, torrent. 

The birds are about this morning, probably as confused as the weather.  I see a female cardinal nearly hidden by her natural color among the bare branches of the crab apple tree.  The chickadees are zipping about from branch to branch, seemingly in a hurry but unsure of the reason for their haste or their even their destination.  A titmouse alights on a branch close by. She pauses just a moment, glances left and right then darts off in another direction.  There are many birds calls but only few visible birds; a testament to mother nature’s camouflage.  The whole world has seems to have a brown and beige, earth-tone color that merge with the winter wardrobe of the animals.  Even the lawn has a slight brown tint that mutes the dull green of the dormant, winter grass. 

The deer make their appearance in the next act of the morning.  I only notice them because of their movement, otherwise they are invisible among the leafless branches of bushes and trees.  One is very small.  It is hard to tell from this distance but it appears to still have spots.  I suspect that the larger one is the mother.   They seem unaffected by the rain and are lazily grazing along the bushes and wondering just inside the tree line.

The sun is up and the day is getting away from me now.  As much as I am enjoying this unexpected morning respite on the porch, I need to get moving.  My coffee cup is empty and I hear the girls moving about in the house.  I am now anxious for the springtime to come in earnest.