Reflections on the Third Week of Spring – Finding Spring

White Tail Doe

      Daffodil buds await a warm, sunny day to burst into bloom, but I’m not as patient. Daylight lengthening and the bird chorus intensifying couldn’t be the only harbingers. This week, I took on a mission from the calendar to find spring. Thursday evening brought some success.

    Gazing at the azalea-pink stripe created by the sun setting behind the woods, I rinsed a cast iron skillet at the kitchen sink and splashed water onto the bib of my apron. Sheesh. I shut off the water and grabbed a towel from the refrigerator handle. Turning my back to the sink, I mopped my soggy front, dried the pan, and glanced through the sliding glass doors. Four white tail deer grazed in the south garden.

    Oooh. Could I get a photo to show Spence when he returned from Cleveland?

    Placing the towel and pan on the table, I tiptoed to the bedroom and grabbed my camera. I attached the zoom lens and tested the focus by aiming through the window. The shutter release clicked ready, and the largest doe jerked her head toward the bedroom.

    Holding the camera away from my damp apron, I backed out of the room and tiptoed down the hall to the great room. Four feet from the sliding glass door, I took aim again.

    The three does munched, but the yearling stared directly at me.

    I pressed the shutter release. Click.

    The yearling raised its front leg as if to march, but stood as still as the angel statue in the north garden. It stared.

    The does stepped and munched.

    Through the glass, I clicked ten photos. Would they be distorted? I slid the door for a clearer shot.

    All three does swiveled their heads toward the deck and glared. The yearling pranced to the woods. Two does followed it, but the largest doe stared right at my face and camera lens.

    Click. Click.

    She ran around the PVC pipes supporting chicken wire that protected last year’s cabbages then dashed into the woods.

    Were the wild deer getting accustomed to people like their suburbanite cousins?

    Not with all the hunters last fall.

    But staring at me rather than fleeing?

    She had fresh greens. Much better than winter bark.

    Fresh indeed. The morning’s dusting of snow had melted keeping the new growth crisp in chilly, moist soil.

    Sitting in my Adirondack chair, I transferred the photos to my laptop. A misty coating dimmed the photos I’d taken through the glass. The others, through the open doorway, looked sharp. I cropped, tweaked contrast, and adjusted eye color.

    Before I could email the photos to Spence, he stepped through the front door.

    I turned the computer screen toward him. “Look who came to visit while you were gone.”

    He squinted. “Deer. Huh. Were they eating my garden or weeds?”

    They hadn’t been near the strawberry bed. “Is anything growing in your garden?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Then they ate weeds.”

    The doe was a kindred spirit―finding spring no matter who watched her search. And we weren’t the only creatures hustling after spring.

    The next morning, Spence had a story. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa with our cat George curled on his chest when―

    Bang!

    “I opened my eyes,” Spence said, “and saw a bat bounce off the window.”

    He’d caught my full attention. “The porch window by the wood stove?”

    Spence nodded.

    “What time?”

    “The middle of the night. It was dark. I didn’t look at the clock.”

    “What did the bat do?”

    “It darted around a porch light.” He zig-zagged his hand back and forth. “Bats don’t fly straight.”

    “A bat out of hibernation and catching bugs!”

    “Yep.” Spence cocked his head and grinned. “Bugs came to the porch lights.”

    Bugs, bats, deer, the calendar, and I proclaim it’s spring. If only we could cue the sun to warm the air, melt the snow that keeps falling, and make daffodils burst into their golden bloom.

White Tail Yearling