Mother Nature has her seasons mixed up. It’s spring. The calendar says so. But she’s acting like it’s winter. The temperatures are down in the 30s at night and only the 50s during the day.
The wind is carrying on out there, blowing around, picking up stuff and hurling it against the window. When I don’t open it, the wind swings over to the door, whistling and moaning, miserable, because I won’t answer.
So the wind moves on to make the trees dance, and ruffle their leaf costumes so the sun illuminates them with a shimmery glow. The leaves twirl delicately, like young ballerinas, on new flexible stems to the beat of the wind.
The azaleas and dogwoods are all in their lovely pastel pinks, lavenders, and bright whites. They must be cold in those light spring coats, wishing they had packed something a little heavier.
Humans are doing their best to let Mother Nature knows she needs to turn up the heat. They are walking around in shorts, t-shirts and sandals, hoping she gets the message that we are ready for spring to show up.
©Lynn Wyvill 2012