HOPE AFTER HIBERNATION

I poked my nose outside a while ago.  There was this strange glowing ball in the sky I wanted to take a closer look at.  I only had to step out onto the deck so I decided I could risk doing this little venture in two layers of clothing – unlike the six or seven it would have needed two weeks ago.

Much to my surprise, once I had cleared the shadow of the roof awning, there was this curious sensation.  It was vaguely familiar.  Wherever the light touched my skin, and even through my clothing, I felt ... I think the word is ‘warm’.  I stretched out my arms and lifted my face to the light.  Yes, that definitely felt ... warm.  It had been so long I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a fantasy.

Feeling no need to hurry back inside this time, before hypothermia set in, I took the time to look around.  The place needed some work: dog bones littered the deck, blankets used for a hay ride on Boxing Day were strewn over the wicker chairs, a derelict Christmas tree leaned against the edge of the deck accompanied by a couple shovels.  Obviously it had been too cold to deal with any of this stuff for months.  The barbeque also was out of place – the result of my desire to use it one night last week.  I had dared the extremes for a bbq steak, but I had to pull it out of the wind to get enough heat built up for cooking.

It’s been quite the long haul, this winter has.

This afternoon though, it felt different.  I stood there, mere runners on my feet and a simple bunnyhug for a jacket, and yet I was unworried about losing body parts to frost bite.  How long has it been since I was afforded such luxury, I wondered?

The dog eyed me suspiciously – what was I up to?  Was I going to feed him?  Was I going to give him grief over hauling that deer hide up to the house?  Or, was he weighing the odds of me remembering what it was like to go for an actual down-the-road walk?  He gave his tail a tentative, half-hearted wag and waited for further cues from my body language.  Can’t say he looked all that surprised when I dusted off a cushion and sat down in my favourite deck chair.  Can’t say he looked all that disappointed either.  He was just happy to have one of his humans outside with him.  We spend lots of hours out on this deck together surveying our kingdom – he does it year round, I keep my surveying to the months with no snow.

On a day like today, with the warmth seeping into both body and mind, a tiny flame of hope was ignited.  Or maybe it was inspiration .  Or possibly an awakening of passions and possibilities.  An almost atrophied part of my brain kicked into gear.  What was I going to plant this year?

Which flowers would attract the most hummingbirds?  Was I going for a certain colour scheme this summer?  What would I fill my big new flower bed with?  How had the strawberries weathered the winter?  So glad we bedded everything down with straw last fall!  Had the deer left the apple trees alone?  How long would it be before we could eat fresh asparagus? 

The thoughts, once started, spilled through my brain.

Over in the quonset sits an almost finished hobby greenhouse.  A few nights ago I spent all my insomniac hours virtually towing it around the yard looking for the perfect place for it.  It couldn’t be put down in our flood plain.  It had to be close to both a power and water source and somewhere that was full sun but out of the wind.  I think I have it figured out ... now to get it there! 

Is this how a bear feels when it staggers out of hibernation, I wondered?  Disoriented and unfocussed until the sunshine seeps in and reminds it of who it is and what it wants?

By this time the afternoon sun was leaning into the west.  Almost suppertime.  It occurred to me that the reason most bears wake up is because they’re hungry.  It was time to leave my sunbeam and go take care of job. 

But the weatherman says that tomorrow is going to be a good deck sitting day too ....