It is late, and my beloved shall be home soon.
Even a rare instance of her absence pains me, and I am awake and in contemplation at this dark quiet hour.
Through the open window in the Study, I feel the chill of the windy sea showers that have poured down upon us for the latter remnant of this week. Droplets plop in deep puddles out around the grounds.
I have learned rather quickly that the seasons of the Mid-Atlantic require a drastic adjustment for one that has spent the largesse of his youth along the warmer margins of the Deep South. Even as Winter has long since retreated into the nether regions of this hurtling Orb, bitter tendrils of his touch creep underneath the darkness between the fall and rise of each day`s Sun.
Even though it is yet May, we have still not packed away our quilts and heavy blankets… for we are only a rainy day away from sweater weather, and even mild Sunny days mean breezy chilly nights here in Annapolis.
We need not build a fire, nor do we need to lower the thermostat… it is the weird and wild Atlantean Spring-tide. A constant incongruity of open windows and blankets pulled up to the chin, of slow turning ceiling fans and loafing around in the warm grass. Cold nights and warm days, weeklong verses of hard swirling rain between burning blue choruses of Sunny skies.
It is Spring in Annapolis, and it is a wonderful time to be alive.