Pale pink petals litter the driveway, nature’s party confetti turning brown at the edges. The squirrels sit in the crooks of tree limbs, quiet and resting in the afternoon sun. Mother Nature wakes from her Winter nap, up but not yet fully alert.
Comparing the seasonal clock to the daily clock, we’re talking about eight thirty ante meridiem. I guess She doesn’t drink coffee or maybe she ran out because She’s a little sluggish this year.
By now, the dogwood would be in full cherry blossom style and the robins would be fat and happy. Instead, the dandelions are curling their faces away from frost and I’m wearing holes in my sweaters.