Monday and Tuesday mornings, I had to defrost the car windows before heading out to work. 30 degrees.
(No garage, remember?)
Yesterday, the wipers took care of the thick dew. 45 degrees.
Right now the yard and street could be the set for an English horror flick filmed in London.
Fogged in, dark, and warm.
67 degrees.
Over the last cup of kitchen-table Elixir, I debate my upcoming road trip to work.
Do I take the Way Less Traveled?
That's the county road lined with turkeys and criss-crossed by deer. The fog will be worse since the road weaves and curls around three lakes and cuts across two swamps and a creek.
Sorry, Thoreau.
Not takin' the way less traveled. Not today.
I'm takin' the way most folks go - running with the crowd.
Broad and wide is the way.
At least for today.
A wide-shouldered, fairly straight, state highway with lotsa traffic to keep wandering wildlife on the sidelines and in the woods.
6 miles into the 22-mile commute I'm already white-knucklin' the steering wheel, driving in a fog-shrouded landscape while being tail-drafted by strangers who, like our governmental spendthrifts, think that limits are suggestions that just get in the way.
10 miles pass and now I'm praying, rather earnestly, for protection.
And for that added hedge of protection I'm listening to Christian radio.
At mile marker 19, I come around a corner in thick fog, well below the posted speed limit and -
What?!!!
Something large and white is crossing the road.
I'm on the brakes and slowing when I notice two darker blobs following the white blob.
As Phlegm the Taurus almost stops, I realize God's provision that kept my car from an insurance deductible.
A white deer, an albino fork-horn buck, is leading two of his buddies across the road.
Snowflake, Mud Boy, and Mocha.
Out for a morning stroll in the fog.
The three stooges who almost meet the fourth one at 35 mph.
An albino deer. On a curve.
And in thick fog.
Is He creative with His answers to prayer or what?!
I can barely see the other two deer, already darkened by their winter coats.
If the first deer hadn't glowed in the fog, I would have made venison sausage.
Two lanes of Bambi tartar.
Wow.
Isn't it great to know Someone's looking out for me and you?
I hope you see your "white deer" today and know He's watching over you.
It's very reassuring.
And your knuckles won't get so white.