As We Wait For Snow.

Apparently it is coming. Next week we are suppose to get snow, that is if the meteorologists are right. December snow, although highly sought after, is unusual in southern Scandinavia. Often we only get fog and rain. If November (and so far December) is any indication of the coming winter, it definitely does not include snow. It has been the wettest and the warmest November on record, failing to have temperatures below freezing, which is highly unusual.

Today is sunny and thus I ventured briefly outside. The December daylight is very fragile and the sun barely visible over the horizon, its shine pale and weak. Yet its rays feels revitalizing on my face.

As I walked around, I stumbled upon very unusual sights just outside my door, signifying autumn or spring, rather then winter.
First, a lonely bee found shelter under a leaf of my Mandevilla. It barely moved. I am not sure if its faith is sealed, but I like to believe it will survive winter somehow.
Next, my roses are still in bloom. Their colours vivid, the petals silky smooth and pristine, just like in late spring.
These were not the only flowers that seem a bit confused about the seasons. My spring bulbs are relentlessly pushing upwards. I have covered them with dirt, bark and fallen leaves. However this seems to be posing no hindrance for their persistence. Piercing through the decaying leaves, they are ready for spring.

The most unusual sight though is of the dry bunch of oats that I purchased on the side of the road last December. Yes, about a year ago. They have been hanging on my fence, used as decoration and the seeds helped birds get through the winter. Imagine my astonishment when I see green shoots covering the dry stalks. I have no idea how this is possible, but I stood there staring at this image, a sight that felt unreal or some sort of a trick.

Or, perhaps it is just another indication that nature is beautiful, unusual, stunning and all times - magical.