This time of year the morning is still dark at 4:30… and for the most part enveloped in quiet. The light creeps up slowly from over the little hill behind our house… until the back yard slowly comes into focus. For a short time between dark and light, it almost appears to glow softly. The birds start to chirp; I rather imagine them yawning a stretching out their wings someplace inside the shrubs. Were we not the caretakers for so many, I would like to stand outside with a steaming hot cup of tea and watch the spectacle of morning unfold. Instead I keep half watch out the kitchen window while getting breakfast for everyone. It’s only when all the creatures great and small have what they need that I can eventually settle into a cup of tea… and by then dawn has officially broken and the quiet has turned to the sounds that come with daylight.
I’ve never been a “morning person”. That being said, I do like them; I just don’t want to have to talk. I like to shuffle around silently doing what needs doing, and work into the talking bit gradually. Of course growing up living with my effervescent, cheerful Mother this was not to be. She wakes up happy, while I simply wake up and am satisfied with that. Some of my most vivid childhood memories are filled with her endless, happy prattle about breakfast, and all its wonderment. Meanwhile… I was literally curled in a ball inside my robe propped in the corner on my chair mumbling. She, on the other hand was delightedly pushing a toasted English muffin under my nose, telling me about how beautiful and lovely it was… with the butter melted into the nooks and crannies… This was usually followed by a lengthy speech extolling the virtues of the prettiest glass of orange juice on earth; which was BURSTING with vitamin C and would make me the healthiest girl around. The cup of hot tea was extraordinary and just perfect for warming a chilly snout. Speaking of snouts… There is a picture of my young self sitting on the floor with a drawer of my dresser pulled out…exposing a jumble of clothes. The worst part about the picture is I’m actually sort of hanging there with one nostril hooked onto the corner of the drawer, which appears to be what is holding me up. Making decisions, such as what to wear are not my strong suit in the a.m. She found great delight in snapping my picture… and I’m sure would have a good guffaw over it if I were to put it under her snout right now.
Way back when, my Grandmother used to rent a cottage beside the ocean for the family come to stay. There were always lots of people staying, things going on; and meals were quite a scene, (but that’s a story for another time.) I found that most everyone “slept in” a bit in the morning. Everyone except my Grandfather that was. He worked in a shoe factory until he was 82 ~ so he got up very early each morning and had his breakfast quietly so as to not wake up my Grandmother, and went to work. When he finally retired he still got up early, old habits I suppose. My Grandfather was at the top on my very short list of favorite people. I discovered that if I got out of bed verrrry quietly and slipped down the stairs that I could have breakfast with him ~ just the two of us, and enjoy the quiet of morning. After toast, and an egg for him; we would sit out on the porch side by side in companionable silence and drink our tea while the rest of the world slept. I will always count that as a favorite morning memory.
These days, mornings are filled with furry and feathery creatures milling about my ankles making various little squeaks and purrs, and wimpery noises, cackles floating in the windows; encouraging me to put something into their dishes. Most of my morning can be accomplished in silence. Just how I like it. I am very lucky to be married to a wonderful guy who gets that I simply have nothing to say in the morning. If he does have a question, he is generally smart enough to phrase it so that I can respond with a head shake or a “Mmmm.” For yes, or “Uh hmmm” for no. Oh course my Mother does live right next door... and has been known to whip open the window at 5:30 a.m. when I'm outside delivering breakfast to the flock; to wish me an exhuberant good morning. I usually glance up and give her a "Mmm." and carry on feeding things while she talks. I think she realizes at this point that if she wants cheerful banter in the morning... I'm NOT the girl.
I"m sure you have all been wondering what morning was like in my world; and now you needn't wonder any longer!
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| This was Christmas morning.... back when it was cool and snowy.... and not humid and stuffy. *sigh. |
