The rain clouds have departed and there is another starry, cloudless sky.  The weather has been very strange.  Who knew that we would have rain on December 26 in Alberta?

I put skates, snowshoes and skis into my vehicle this morning. I hadn't made up my mind as to what I wanted to do.  I drove to Elk Island Park.  The Christmas bird count was happening but even so, there were not many vehicles to be seen. 

I headed to the Beaver Pond Trail.  It was packed down so I decided to put the cleats on and hike it without snowshoes.  As I left the parking lot, a squirrel chattered from a tree top and a coyote howled in the distance.  The remainder of my walk had only the sound of silence.  

I saw some things that one does not equate with winter.  Tiny moths were flying low to the ground.  I had to put my glasses on to confirm that I was not imagining them.  The pussy willows were popping from the buds on the branches.  We have a few months to go before spring arrives.  The insects and the trees are confused.

Throughout the two hours that I was out, I stopped every so often just to take in the quiet.  I envisioned the malls filled with bargain-hunting shoppers.  The idea of throngs of people carrying a multitude of packages, moving from store to store made me shudder.  The noise of rustling bags, of ringing cash registers, of people talking on their phones and the thought of being in the midst of that chaos was a nightmare in my world.

Shopping is not high on my list of enjoyable things to do.  In fact it ranks close to the bottom of the list.  The idea of being out on the trail, in the middle of the forest, listening only to the grasses rustle and the birds call was my idea of a perfect morning.

I was three quarters of the way around the trail loop when the rain started.  At first, a few drops sprinkled down.  I could hear them on my nylon jacket.  By the time I got to my vehicle, it was pouring.  I packed everything but an umbrella but why would I have done that in the middle of winter?  The wipers had to be on during the entire drive home.  The highway was not slippery but it was wet.  The rural roads that had packed snow and ice on them were becoming treacherous with the added layer of water.

As I pulled into my driveway, I did my own backyard bird count.  Chickadees came from every direction to feed at the three feeders.  A nuthatch was making its way down the decaying stump.  When it flew away, a pileated woodpecker swooped in.  A blue jay landed at the tray feeder to stock up on sunflower seeds.  The magpies found the grain left out for the deer.

I doubled the amount of grain in the tub to give my furry friends a Christmas treat yesterday but they didn't show up.  The grain was still in the tub when I went out this evening to top up the bird feeders.  Shortly after I came inside, all five deer filed into the yard single file.  The deep snow had softened quite a bit from the rain, making it even more difficult for them to walk through it.

I spent the afternoon in front of the wood stove; reading and listening to the rain fall against the window pane.  After waking from a peaceful, hour long nap, I came to the realization that the day was even more relaxing than what I had 'bargained' for.