A heavy spring storm rolled over my suburban area today. A genuinely nice day filled with barbecues and lawnmowers got so dark the streetlights came on, it gave everything a grey-orange glow as everyone packed up what they were doing around their homes and ran to avoid the coming downpour.

Stay home! The weather certainly helps. Less folks out looking at the new blossoms, more room for nature to do her thing unimpeded.

We saw some deer cautiously hanging out on the side of a road. Clearly confused about the lack of people and cars they kept alert while munching on the fresh spring sprouts of grass. We watched in isolation through our window and chuckled that we are the ones in the zoo now.

Sitting under a tin roof porch it occurred to me how far a drop of rain would silently fall until finally and violently coming to rest in possibly the loudest way possible. Each drop a tiny missile destined to break what would otherwise be a very peaceful patter of rain.

I have always loved the excess of light around the solstice. We make the darkest and longest night of the year one of the brightest by lighting up our homes and streets with colour and wreathes, reminding us that starting now every day will be a little longer and a little brighter. I was particularly stuck by how the lights reflected off the wet ground creating a kaleidoscope of icy colour.

It occurred to me one morning staring at a seemingly endless line of brake lights that everyone else in this increasingly frustrating line was just as tired and miserable as I am. Tthe age old adage of seeing red ironically applies to tail lights especially when lit up to indicate the constant braking of traffic.

The mercury is dropping faster then we expected. It’s not quite polar vortex weather yet but the dry air and static warns of its approach.