It's taken long enough but I think it's finally arrived, spring that is. Here it is already nearly summer, according to the calender date but not by means of weather. We are about two months behind schedule. Normally daffodils bloom in march, this year they bloomed in may followed by the tulips and just now lilacs. I am usually only blessed with lilacs here on the Gant Ranch every five years or so. They usually are consumed by frost before they can open their fragrant blossoms. They are hidden this year behind the aspen trees tender greens which normally are bare branches when they begin to bud. I picked a large bouquet and placed them on my table indoors so I can can fully enjoy their presence.
It's finally warm enough to sit on my porch in the fresh early morning air. As long as I wear a sweater or my robe and place my chair just right on the corner that the sun kisses this early. The breeze is cool, too cool really but it's not too bad. I have to move my chair as the sun rises and moves behind the huge pines and blue spruce tree that adorned my back yard. I just keep shifting a little to the left to capture it full warmth.
So here I sit, sipping my morning mocha while being embraced by the warmth of the sun and caressed by the cool breeze. Two days ago I spotted the resident doe. Only the tips of her large mule ears were visible as she nibbled on the tall bitter brush. I watched her for an hour or more. She finally disappeared then suddenly reappeared in full view. She has given birth to twins annually in the wooded area just beyond my yard for several years now. She stops between bites and looks this way glancing at the dog laying on the porch beside me. She has learned not to fear him. Then she strolls out of sight again.
Soon I catch a glimpse of a tiny spotted fawn as it dashes across a small opening satisfying my curiosity of whether or not she has yet given birth. A little disappointed that there were no twins this year.
Yet only day, again I sit and wait and watch, then suddenly there she is, in full view appearing out of no where. Minutes later she is joined by two tiny spotted fawns. I only get to see them for a moment before she jumps the fence to join them on the other side and again disappears into the trees.
A red tailed hawk sits perched up high in the top of the forked pine tree. Her size dwarfed by the height of the tall tree. But in comparison to the tiny squawking female bird that dive bombs the predator, disapproving of her presence, she is quite large. The attacks are ineffective. No baby ducks pass below on the water so the hawk soars away minutes later at will.
It's such a gift to witness natures beauty, and all from my back yard porch, in my bath robe drinking my morning mocha. What a blessing. Would you like to join me for a second cup?
Sherrie Gant is a writer, photographer, and