I’m beginning to think that Virginia only has about three seasons: winter, summer, and neither of those. We went from snow at the end of March full pelt into summer this week; today the high is supposed to be 91. The cherry trees have blossomed, but not much else. The lifeless tree in the front of the house has grown beautiful purple tulip blossoms at the top – but only at the very top, and there’s not a single leaf to be seen. I’m used to easing into spring with warmer weather and gentler showers, tulips and daphne blossoms. Not even the animals ease into spring – or really anything, for that matter.
Hanna and I were on our way to work yesterday, going a good clip down the highway, when smart as you please, a wild turkey decided it was the perfect time to cross the road. If the joke is “Why did the turkey cross the road?” then the punchline must be “To make me brake suddenly at 60 mph.” Not very funny, I know.
Did you know turkeys can fly? Boy is that a good thing. Because as we approached this mass of bird, still trying to brake, it opened its wings and flew a good three feet into the air, crossing the divider line, and presumably clearing the road, I was too busy keeping my eyes on the road to check. Fly may also be a bit strong of a word. In bird terms, it was more like an assisted hop. But it had its grace, in its own way.
Not knowing what else to say from the adrenaline from the moment, I, in my wisdom, turned to Hanna and said “Did you see that turkey?!”
Considering it was impossible to miss, he dropped his hands into his face and groaned at my level of genius.