We headed over town from Southport around 8 o'clock in the evening Sunday, amazed by how much light there still was in the sky. We spend winters in our bunkhouse/barn on the property which is surrounded by trees. We sort of lose track of how the sun moves around now.
It seemed to me that, not long ago, dark was at five o'clock. Hard to believe, when we came out of the cave, that there were three more hours of daylight on the tail end of the day, and probably two hours more at the beginning. The sun is setting much farther to the north now than I realized, too.
When we rounded the bend on Route 27, and passed the old Conant property on the left, the sky was beautifully illuminated out the cove to the north. I chose to witness and ignore, but my co-pilot suggested that we turn around. As Rumpole of the Bailey might have said, “She who must be obeyed,” was correct again. I turned around for a glimpse of hope.
The rains have been pretty constant. The old saying “April showers bring May flowers” could be rephrased by me to say “February, March and April showers bring May flounders” as new water bodies keep showing up. The ducks have actually swum through the back yard. But we get signs, such as the above, to help us hold fast to the notion that spring, or something, will arrive.
And we were not alone. As I clambered up the bank opposite the cove for a better view of things, a car cruised down the hill from town. As it rounded the bend in front of me, brake lights indicated that they too had spotted the beautiful presentation. Reflections of the sky in the still cove waters glowed. A mother and daughter, I assumed, popped out of the stopped vehicle to admire the scene. They landed just in time as the light began to fade.
Keep the faith. Better weather days are ahead, I think.