The sun
crested the lower trees at 6:45 this morning, high enough to bathe a good
portion of the back porch in golden light. It was fairly warm out and with no
breeze, making the old Adirondack chair we keep a perfect spot to simply sit
and awaken.
I dream
about these mornings, when winter sets in full, and this very spot is covered
twelve inches deep with crusted snow pack. The enjoyment then is of a different
sort, where such austerity and elemental harshness is indeed invigorating. It
is only a detached appreciation at best, seen and felt beneath a layer of
insulation we’ve steadily accumulated since last autumn, both of the physical
and mental kind.
To sit
here in this summer morning is an exposed investment, where the warming sun and
verdant scents are nurturing and inviting to be a part of the experience.
Tendrils
of steam drift upward from my coffee cup, sitting now on the arm of the chair,
and their shifting presence has attracted a curious hummingbird. She hovers
frenetically near the cup, if only for a moment, so close to my still arm that
I feel the small wind her wings create, before she quickly departs to sample
the nasturtium blossoms nearby.
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