Take a break

This was written early one spring morning, '09.........Come, Share with me a moment in time, before the world wakes up. With coffee in hand we pause for a moment of silence and thanks for the blessing of a new day for sight and sound, and for health and breath to enjoy it...... It's the still of early morning and dawn has just broken the cover of darkness. All is quiet except the ticking of the clocks inside and outside, the pileated woodpecker nearby, drumming intently on an old hollow tree. The air lays still, heavy with mystic dew. Droplets, like diamonds, shimmer on a spiderweb just outside the window. The keeper of the web, oblivious to the intricate details of her palace, decorated so artistically by diamond dust (a.k.a. dew drops) sits on her thrown like a queen, surrounded and dazzled by jewels......What wonders He has wrought!
A heavy sweetness wafts through the open window, tantalizing the senses. It's so intoxicating and exhilarating, that it invites a long pause to drink in it's flowery scent. Is it locust blossoms or honey suckle? There's nothing in sight to give a clue to it's origin. It seems to be a 'Mystery Scent' but yet it has lingered for some time, mornings and evenings, hanging thick in the air. Could it be the sweet heavenly aroma of the presents of God, waiting to commune at the dawn and dusk of the day? If so, can you imagine the awesome scents in heaven, surrounding our heavenly home? Oh the beauty of an exquisite, velvet red rose, the deep hue of a purple lilac, or the dainty teardrop, suspended from a pink bleeding heart. Aint God Good!
I watch a family of gray squirrels. Two young ones, recently graduated from their high lofty nest nearby, are racing about, rustling the dry leaves on the ground. They chatter a sassy cry and chase each others bushy tails around the tree at a dizzying pace. They pause for but a moment to regroup and off they race again, faster still. A chorus of colorful birds are heralding the start of a new day, with sweet songs of praise to their maker. Their songs are upbeat and catchy, nature's music to the soul
Oh look! Is it? Yes! There's a silent, stealthy doe, half hidden behind the maple tree. Her white tail is working overtime, like a flag set asail in the breeze. She's cautious, peering around a low hanging branch. She ever so slowly edges closer to the big rock nearby and licks up the salty earth, enjoying the remains of a salt block, long gone. She savors the minerals for some time, allowing me to enjoy her regal beauty. She soon has her fill and ambles closer, her head bobbing for a better view, always mindful of her surroundings. Her long ears twitch forward and backwards. She spies the cat and he too, is watching her intently. They eye each other a long moment, then respecting their distance, she ambles away to forage on the tender new grass and pretty wildflowers. From her point of view, all flowers are edible, even mu bleeding hearts, purple cone flowers, hydrangeas and seedum, she enjoys them all.
Well, that's a piece of my morning, home alone, enjoying the quiet and stillness of nature. I love it, it doesn't happen very often but this morning, Hubby is off on a tractor somewhere, plowing a big field and and planting corn. Little britches, (not so little anymore) is visiting his Sissy where he also spent the night. Hence, my quiet morning.
I did have a couple interruption's though. The loud, clamoring phone rang, breaking the stillness, and peace of the morning. Next, a piercing call of alarm from the cat (General George Patton, per Tim) brought me quickly to my feet. A big, wild Tom cat snuck up from the woods and was forcing Patten, , to the edge of the deck. He was ever so slowly inching him backwards, to the corner, to a big drop off. Before I could break it up, Yellow Tom succeeded in forcing him over the edge where he fell about 10 feet to the ground. I hissed the big bully back into the woods and also startled several deer nearby who also ran off into the cover of trees, snorting as they bounded away. In a couple minutes, here came cat, creeping up the stairs, sneezing bleary eyed but still walking. He sought the comfort of my arms for a spell while he composed himself, got his dignity back and his head on straight again.
Well, I must needs get going, clocks need wound, laundry done, weeds in flower bed pulled, windows washed and floors swept. Hope you enjoyed the morning along with me, I did. We'll do it again some time. Perhaps about the foggy mist that hangs heavy over the Ohio River, the mournful foghorn from an enshrouded barge, that echos and bounces back and forth off the hills along the river. It's haunting reverb, meant to clear the way ahead, is muffled by the density, so thick you can feel it envelope you. The night is still, damp and dark. The only light comes from the long beam of the beacon in the pilothouse, swinging from side to side, searching opposite banks for it's safe passage up the swollen, rushing river, pushing hard against the swift current. The grown of the tug boats motor labors as it fights against the force of the cold , murky water. Curves lay ahead, several sharp, horseshoe bends that require careful navigating in the daylight, and still more skillful hands at the helm when the fog is thick enough to cut with a knife, the night is dark, and long miles lay ahead. The pilot's heart races as he fights the treacherous waterway, nervously glancing at his watch as he prays for the first light of dawn and the morning sun that evaporates and lifts the white, heavy blanket that suffocates his view..............I can hear it chugging up river and it's mournful foghorn, piercing the night, as I lay safely in my comfortable bed, glad that I'm on good solid ground as I drift off in a peaceful sleep.................and dream of calm, still waters on a glassy smooth lake, reflecting perfectly the azure blue sky and Cotton candy clouds above. I sit ladylike in the small skiff, one white gloved hand holding a fringed parasol. It compliments my summer hat, bedecked with a dottedswiss ribbon and pretty pink roses for adornment. My long white dress, trimmed with a blushing sash, protects from the warm suns rays. Bare toes are half hidden under the lacy skirt, enjoying their new found freedom from the high top button up shoes, tossed aside with reckless abandonment. Oh these wonderful, carefree, summer days spent daydreaming, drifting along on the placid lake. The ever so slight breeze tickles the fancy and stirs up the perfume from the lilac bushes on the waters edge nearby. My hand shades the eyes as they scan the distant shoreline, searching for the quaint little summer cottage near the rocky cove. Home.....with it's white picket fence and tall colorful hollyhocks half hidden behind the blue morning glory vines. I see the small boathouse with it's image mirrored on the still water, it's reflection a perfect likeness, down to it's gingerbread trim. 'Old Glory' displays her colors proudly, ever so slightly moving as if kissed by the breeze...........The year is 1900, the dawn of a new century, waiting to be experienced. Hi expectations, new hopes and dreams. Oh the wonders of it all. The thrill of life!