The dog was awakened this morning before 7:00 AM by a pair of deer walking in the woods behind our house. Whether he heard or smelled them remains a mystery to us because the woods are quite some distance from the house, and deer are largely silent creatures. The dog howled and barked up a storm; the deer remained indifferent, placidly searching for something to eat on the cusp of Spring. As they moved out of sight, the dog settled back down, but now the rest of us were all awake.
Days like this I wish I was more of a morning person. I’d like to think I have a shot of having the house to myself in the wee hours, but as long as my eldest lives here, this will never be true. He is a very early riser, I will never beat him. As soon as he knows I am up he will come in to chat. In his eighteen years, he has not figured out that I don’t deal well with talk in the mornings.
In the years when I was commuting to Boston, I missed so much of the activity here on the island. When I would drive out to the highway, I’d think about the fishermen and the dock workers, and the people opening up their places of business. I missed so much of the community experience working in an office among the cubicles. Now that I am home and have the time, I am less interested in the community. It’s too cold to be out and about in the early morning without a real destination. I am too tired for the community to ask anything of me just now. I don’t get the local paper anymore, I’ve dropped out of all my committees, and this will be the first year in twenty that I am not going to Spring Town Meeting. I’ve become the hermit I once expected to be in my 20s. Now if I were writing productively, this would be a good thing.
So instead of people and projects marking the days, I have nature that I can see through my window. Surprisingly, there’s an awful lot of it, even in the winter. We’ve had coyote visitors, and the other day a fox crossed the street and bounded through our yard. We’ve had turkeys and a kestrel. I’m waiting to see an owl. Snowy owls winter in the area, and some of them are quite used to humans as long as we don’t get too close.
I’m taking the deer as another sign of Spring; mostly because I have not seen them all winter. I read somewhere that their stomachs adapt to the seasons – tolerating the leafless branches in winter and seeking softer fare in the warmer months. It’s still too early for leaves or even buds. We have had a few warmer days here and it is amazing how much lighter and happier I feel when I can sit outside even for a few minutes.
Now, at the end of the day, it’s raining as I write this and a local weather site I follow is suggesting that the patter at the windows is actually sleet. This is when I am glad to not have anywhere to go. I can stay in this evening and write.