The cold air and the accompanying breeze said, “Not yet,” but the sunshine, the forsythia blooms, and the about-to-burst buds on the magnolias said, “Soon.”
Yesterday’s rain still clung to the grass and glazed the road as Farley and I headed out this morning. This time of year you can still see far into the woods in one part of our walk. The trees hadn’t borne their leaves and the vines hadn’t obscured the view. I scanned the woods for deer, wondering how Farley might react if he spied one. I didn’t spot any. We didn’t see many humans, either, which was okay.
Part of my brain ran through the day to come, planning what I’d say in the meetings with kids. The other part relished the in-between feel of the day. Yesterday a pathetic whimper of snow fell from the sky, followed by hours of rain. It felt like a cusp day. It felt like a Monday. Today the possibilities seemed to be winning.
As we rounded the last corner and headed up the street, our neighbor’s driveway caught my eye. It made me stop. Glowing red in the sunlight, it drew me past our house. I had to see what was tricking my eye. The neighbors, quite elderly, weren’t home, still taking refuge on a secluded beach in Florida, but their old maple had been busy last night. Inspired by the rain and the breeze, and maybe the sense of possibilities, it had decided to lay out a perfect red carpet, celebrating their return.
I couldn’t bear to tell the tree that Nancy had talked to the old couple yesterday by phone. They’ve decided not to return for a few more weeks.
I know. They said they’d be back this week, And you did such a beautiful job. Here. I’ll take a picture. They’ll appreciate the thought and the effort. And don’t worry. They’re coming back soon. Soon.