Early Morning
My day always starts the same way. I stumble out of bed, dress in the dark, and try to contain yip and yap as we fall out of the house onto the porch. These days it's still dark when we begin our walk at 5 AM. Just a few weeks ago it was light at this time, the sky a blaze of pinks and oranges, the warmth of the sun already creating a day in which to bask. Not so much now that it's October.
Looking up I see that lovely balsamic moon. Her entire being is shadowed but still visible and it makes me realize that how much things change, other things are steadfast and can be relied upon.
The chicken girls are silent now in their own little house. The sheep and cows are also quiet. There is no bird song yet. Some early mornings it feels as if we three are the only things awake in our part of the world.
Gypsy girl pulls ahead of me on our walks. She is always good to go, ready for an adventure. Mornings, even dark ones, are full of anticipation for her. Jake is a different animal entirely. He does not bound awake, just sort of absorbs the morning as it unfolds, and sometimes he looks so like my husband who stumbles to the coffee for his early hit of coffee. Jake is like that, he is slow to waken, plodding along, wondering why we couldn't have taken this first walk a couple of hours later.
These early walks often take on the feeling of adventure, for once they are awake the pair of dogs sniff along the roadbed, snarf the air above, listen to the wind, and look for something exciting to happen. I can almost hear their thoughts some days, so excited they are.
'Do you think that's a dragon we smell?'
Good goddess, I certainly hope not is my return thought. There have been times when we have kicked up a deer on her way to bed down for the day. Holding my dogs has been hard then. And once 3 half grown raccoon cubs (kits?) burst out of the corn field just to the left of us and disappeared into the woods just on the other side of the road. We were so startled by this unexpected burst of energy and noise that we stopped in our tracks. And that is what saved us as the trio was into the thick underbrush of the woods before the dogs found their voice. The cubs were still young enough that I know mama was nearby. And a mama raccoon in full mother-mode is a sight to behold, and she could have done considerable damage to my dogs.
The morning walk takes us about half an hour and during that time this morning the sky went from dark blue to gray and by the time we returned to the house one could really tell that dawn was well, a-dawning.
Farther to the north I could hear traffic noises clearly as town started on its own agenda. But for me and the dogs, we seem to like the adventures of early morning walks, of breaking the silence of night, of finding new things to think about as day moves across the farm. The entire day stretches before us, to be filled with all manner of things. Some of them quite unexpected. And while I certainly hope we never find that dragon on our early walk, or actually on any walk, still the possibilities are yet ahead of us.
Looking up I see that lovely balsamic moon. Her entire being is shadowed but still visible and it makes me realize that how much things change, other things are steadfast and can be relied upon.
The chicken girls are silent now in their own little house. The sheep and cows are also quiet. There is no bird song yet. Some early mornings it feels as if we three are the only things awake in our part of the world.
Gypsy girl pulls ahead of me on our walks. She is always good to go, ready for an adventure. Mornings, even dark ones, are full of anticipation for her. Jake is a different animal entirely. He does not bound awake, just sort of absorbs the morning as it unfolds, and sometimes he looks so like my husband who stumbles to the coffee for his early hit of coffee. Jake is like that, he is slow to waken, plodding along, wondering why we couldn't have taken this first walk a couple of hours later.
These early walks often take on the feeling of adventure, for once they are awake the pair of dogs sniff along the roadbed, snarf the air above, listen to the wind, and look for something exciting to happen. I can almost hear their thoughts some days, so excited they are.
'Do you think that's a dragon we smell?'
Good goddess, I certainly hope not is my return thought. There have been times when we have kicked up a deer on her way to bed down for the day. Holding my dogs has been hard then. And once 3 half grown raccoon cubs (kits?) burst out of the corn field just to the left of us and disappeared into the woods just on the other side of the road. We were so startled by this unexpected burst of energy and noise that we stopped in our tracks. And that is what saved us as the trio was into the thick underbrush of the woods before the dogs found their voice. The cubs were still young enough that I know mama was nearby. And a mama raccoon in full mother-mode is a sight to behold, and she could have done considerable damage to my dogs.
The morning walk takes us about half an hour and during that time this morning the sky went from dark blue to gray and by the time we returned to the house one could really tell that dawn was well, a-dawning.
Farther to the north I could hear traffic noises clearly as town started on its own agenda. But for me and the dogs, we seem to like the adventures of early morning walks, of breaking the silence of night, of finding new things to think about as day moves across the farm. The entire day stretches before us, to be filled with all manner of things. Some of them quite unexpected. And while I certainly hope we never find that dragon on our early walk, or actually on any walk, still the possibilities are yet ahead of us.