The Ritual Come Early

I awakened this morning with an uneasy feeling that something wasn't quite right. Suspisciously, I turned towards the window and saw only darkness through the glass panes. Confounded, I looked to the nightstand and checked the time of the alarm clock. It glared back at me displaying 3:30am. As I turned from it to pull my sheet back into position, I heard movement from the Living room. 'Drat,' I thought as Three Cats bounded onto my bed having been 'discovered.' I would Now have to get up and feed them.
For those of You that don't have cats, I'm sure that you think the idea of leaving one's bed at such an early hour to feed pets is Ludicrous. 'Cat People' know differently. Once you have even simulated a routine, Cats will not allow you the luxury of returning to your previous state. The Behavior must be followed through to the end or you are in store for much unpleasantry (and don't need to elaborate). In earlier days I had tried to reason with My feline roommates and found that it was fruitless since they would have none of that 'Nonsense.' The experience is something akin to their taking possession of the keys to the car and your the only Driver. Next thing you know, You'll be pulling out of the driveway. As I hoisted myself from the bed, they dove to the floor and headed to the Dark kitchen. They had tagged me and I was it.
Though dark as pitch, I found my way to the kitchen illuminated by a light that I kept on above the sink. As my right hand hit the main light panel, all three stood at attention in the glaring light then wound there way towards their bowls. I scooped each dish up, opened the cabinet and the sound of cans being cracked open set them in motion once more. They crowded towards Me as the food was dished out, Tightly curling up to my legs. To move from my placement I would have to tentatively stick a foot out to clear a path. As each ran to their assigned site. I lay the bowls in front of them (somewhere in my head was a thought of being a Grown woman being duped). Switching the kitchen chandelier off, I left them in the dimly lit kitchen to finish their breakfast. Perhaps I could retrieve more sleep.
I wearily crossed back upon my earlier path and went once more to my
bed. I grabbed the sheets and nestled a pillow to my head attempting to proceed back into a slumber. Within five minutes my hopes and plans were dashed again. More sound came from the living room consisting of dashing across a carpet and the unmistakable 'sliding into a kitchen chair', all punctuated with various tones of hissing. I lay in my bed merely awaiting the next familiar scene to be played out. It wouldn't take long.
True to form, I felt the weight of three entities as they dove onto my bed. Each settled into a cumpulsory spot and began to preen themselves. I was now wide awake but kept my eayes tightly shut in a poor rendition of 'playing possum.' The two littermates continued to focus attention on themselves But, the 'Alpha' knew better. He had been my companion for years when I still harbored Teenagers in my house and had long ago caught onto my Games. A paw touched my face. Sensing that I was not moving to His tentative pressure, I felt a 'sandpaper like tongue upon my face. My eyes met His and He satisfactorily sat back smugly knowing that He had won.
I gently caressed this blue pointed beauty as He rubbed against Me claiming Me as his own. His coat was dense and soft as I my hand traced His features and slid down His tail. Once more we locked gazes and He moved his tongue to my hand to preen me finding each individual finger in an attempt to 'clean' it thoroughly. I rose to a sitting position, propping the pillows against the headboard as He fully moved to my lap. I scratched his neck and hugged Him to Me more closely . A steady purring sound presented itself as He languished upon my legs, stretching and nuzzling in turn. The ritual at an end once more, he raised himself from upon me, leapt from the bed and meandered out through the door. The littermates, intrigued by this action, looked to each other then scurried from the bed in hot pursuit. My use at an end, I found myself alone once more in my room with no chance left to regain the sleep that I had lost.
I once more doggedly left My bed and dressed myself this time, donning my shorts and tank top and tying my sneakers into place. I guess that it was time for My walk.

A Rose Speaks Volumes

A Rose speaks volumes of what is right in this World. It is a true gift of nature crafted by an infinitely powerful hand set upon this Earth for our delight. Just as it reaches up to the sun for life, We must also. To negate this ritual We would surely perish.
Diane Svete

A simple Morning Yet Special

I awakened this morning fully aware that a early walk would not be on my agenda. I had three nights of work to contend with, each lasting 12 hours and an addition to physical activity would be unwarranted for the next 72 hours. Walking down the hall I could feel and ache in my ankles as I was still becoming accustomed to my morning ventures. The feeling would be transient as all of my senses would awaken to full alertness and I ignored the feeling with ease.
Once more, the Felines of my Life were lined at their dishes in anticipation. As the cans were cracked open and the food spooned into their bowls they curled around my legs with a loud purring as a 'Thank You' for their breakfast. They fell upon their bowls as if they'd been starving and I wiped down the counter and sink. From the kitchen window, I could see the windchimes moving and hear the chiming of crystal and copper as the breeze moved through them. Though a Hurricane would not bear down on Florida today yet, it's outer bands would keep the trees moving and bring more rain. My lantern was charged and I added more ice to the cooler. Though the Sun was bright, the air was heavy with moisture that the clouds would release once sodden. I wandered outside and repositioned my rain barrel.
Once back inside I turned the laptop on to check any new email that had come my way. As the screen came up there was a posting in red of Hurricane Irene hitting the Carolina Coast. This was my signal to call my Son at Fort Bragg. Though My Children and myself were accustomed to these sometimes catastrophic occurrences of Nature, We were no longer together in a unit and a phonecall would be a necessity. I grabbed the fully charged 'cell' and pressed his number.
The voice that greeted me was mired in sleep and I apologized for awakening Him. All being forgiven, He reassured Me that there was only light wind and rain where He was stationed and nothing to worry about. Even the skies were merely a light grey with no signs of the dark and forbidding clouds that spawned tornadoes. Satisfied that all was right with Him I wished Him more rest and disconnected.
As I carried my nursing uniforms from the Laundry room through the livingroom, I gave a small thanks that I had swept the deep plush carpet yesterday. The room stood clean and pleasant. This was a must when one was working a schedule such as mine. A clean house made for a comfortable area to sleep between shifts and it was never lost on Me. I had learned that through trial and error. I neatly hung my uniforms up in complete readiness for the work ahead. I had no need to go searching through closets when I was on a timetable.
Once more I stepped outside to check that all was in it's place as the Sun moved in and out of sight. As was my custom, the roses always called to me and I made my way through the thick grass below my bare feet to one of My Favorites. Buds that were tightly closed yesterday were awakening revealing a folded petal at a time. They were newly born and hadn't developed their fragrance yet So, I hovered over the open blooms and drank their delicate perfume in. As I stood at the bush, I could feel a wayward drop of rain on my shoulder and headed back inside thankful for the shelter of a Home.
Each morning has much to offer whether it be outside with the sun carressing your shoulders or inside surrounded by those things that make a house a home. Though now cloudy, my crystals would not shed rainbows upon the ceilings or walls but were still beautiful in their cut and clarity as they hung from my ancient, rewired lamp. The tiger oak pattern of My Grandparent's table still held it's luster as it began it'd third generation of use and I gave thought to it's resilincy of almost 100 years. There is so much for us to see and take in. It may only be for a moment but, it just might stay with you for years.

The Blessing of the Morning

May We all Grow in Strength and Beauty as these ancient Oaks. May We embrace Life's Circle in the Fashion that these trees shed their old foliage to make way for the New. May we raise Our Faces to the Sun to absorb It's Light, Warmth and Glory.

The Well Practiced Ritual

Last night I has set my alarm clock for an Early Rising. Though not in synch with the late hours that I had kept, determination moved my fingers as I programmed the device to allow only 6 hours sleep. Blocking a future regret that I would have in the morning, I determinedly moved the switch to the 'On' position.
In mid-dream I could hear the clock at my bedside chirping this morning and tentatively turned towards it. After I had flipped the switch to quiet it's blaring voice my eyes took in the dimness of the room and wandered about the ceiling. As I was still in the decision of rising or staying in My bed the choice was taken from Me as one of the Cats bounded onto Me, fully awake and anticipating breakfast. My morning fate was sealed.
As I pulled my sheet from Myself and turned to exit my bed, my body acutely reminded Me of the bicycle I had recently purchased by setting afire muscles long unused and begging to be left alone in their accustomed slumber. I ignored their pleadings as my feet touched the carpet and I wandered into the bathroom where I had lain out my walking attire the night before. There was business to be had onhand.
In the kitchen, the Cats had aligned themselves at their bowls staring into their emptiness with glances up at Me for their filling. The 3 of them had trained Me early on that there morning meal would take precedence over any of my well planned endeavors and I quickly snatched the bowls from them. As the tops snapped on the food cans they paced about their chosen positions in anticipation of their morning feasts. With bowls down in front of them, they surveyed their morning choice for their breakfast, then gingerly started upon what was presented in their bowls with tails swinging slowly back and forth to acknowledge their approval. I unlocked the kitchen door and made my way into the garage. With a press of a button, the door lifted and the light appeared simultaneously. My day was now at hand.
There was a coolness to the morning that I hadn't felt as of late and reminded myself that the season changing would soon be at hand. As the time would fly by, the Autumn solstice would be upon us and the Southern Farmers would be planting the winter crops of cabbage, lettuce and other cruciferous vegetables of all types. The stalks of corn would be cut and bound to be used as fodder for the cattle and the hay bales would be stored in the Barns. The Summer would exhale leaving the Fall to take it's place.
As I moved from my driveway I beheld the sky that was still an unfettered cerulean blue with no clouds present to show a line of demarcation. Above me stood a spectacle in it's purest form and I chided myself for having even considered the idea of missing it. An energy now possessed my body and my center of gravity began to right itself. I made my first turn.
As my steps fell upon the asphalt I felt a cool wind encompass Me. It was a visit from the North Country gracing the South with a minute change in temperature that would eventually take hold above the Mason/Dixon turning it into a Fairyland of frost and snowflakes. It would strip the trees of remaining leaves in order to make room for the tiny flakes that would rest upon the dark, protective covering of bark and give contrast to the landscape. To the South, it would bring a gift of respite from the heat as we would hurriedly wrap shawls and jackets around ourselves that were rarely worn and check the woodpiles for enough hardwoods to stoke our wood burning stoves and fireplaces. I mused that different climates existed in the same nation and with that, different preparations. While gas lines were being checked up North, heat pumps were inspected in the Southern region. We were One People in different circumstances.
Once more a stronger breeze took Me from my reverie and I perceived my second turn. By this time my shoulders had righted themselves in a backward position and my legs extended their stride. With every step was a delicate adjustment to right my knees and to stablize my ankles. The heel toe motion was coming naturally. The field in which the creek lay still harboured the dew of the morning and the sunlight gleamed from the top of the streams waters. Like myself, the creek was in motion to carry out it's task of filling the cattle pond. Emerging from the overgrown grasses and fieldflowers no longer bearing their blooms, it held an ethereal quality as if it sprung from nowhere. I nodded towards it's presence in acknowledgement.
The egrets had already left the pond traversing the fields and lawns foraging for their morning meal. The Cranes had taken full reign of the waters and stood in the cool depths. To my surprise, even the Sand Cranes had joined them this morning. They were easily picked out amongst the flock. There feathers were a silvery grey with ruby red fringing their beaks and faces. Most outstanding was their height of almost 6 feet, dwarfing the others in comparison. Rather than keeping to the shallows, they had taken to the depths preening themselves in the mirror of the water and fanning themselves to shake off the water that they had delved into.
The outermost part of the pond had lost it's mirror like quality. The Northern breeze cascaded upon it leaving countless ripples in it's wake distorting the greenery and Farmfouse that was usually reflected in it. Again the realization of a Season's end took hold of Me. The circle would once more be completed. Not only would the impending Season bring New memories but resurrect the old for time hasn't the capability to stop or reverse itself. It can only go forward as we all must or perish in a land that no longer exists, it's meanings long accomplished.
The walk back disclosed an expanse of sky that would soon deepen in it's hue and bring with it a warmth that would remove the chill from the coldest of entities. There would still be some warmth in these Summer climes to be contended with and I would take it in to hold onto and bring out when it could no longer be found. I don't let go of the Season's easily.
As I turned once more I could feel the rhythmic rocking of my pelvis as my legs sustained the weight of my body in a harmonizing gait keeping myself balanced as I completed my steps to the driveway. As I entered the boundaries of my home, I veered off into the lawn and straightened solar lights set askew and inspected the buds upon my hibiscus. I casually left the lawn and entered the garage noting the marked boxes of decorations and the tools that I'd accrued through the years. Within an instant, I was back in my kitchen and through the swinging door to the livingroom. The sunlight was gracing my crystals and a vivid light display of rainbows decorated my walls and furniture. My gift being received, I gave my humble Thanks righting the porcelain vase on My Grandparents Breakfront and inhaling the fragrance of their house so many years gone. With the making of my bed, I had completed my ancient chores of the morning and sought out what New gifts the Day would lay at my feet.

The Gift of the Nightshift

I was not so enthused about waking up late this morning but doggedly accepted it. I'm a Working Creature of the night that practices My Nursing profession when the moon and stars are vivid in the heavens, only seeing shrouden clouds when the Lunar phase is full and my shadow present in the nocturnal glow. I mesh easily between the night and day having found purpose in both and consider myself privileged to know of each acutely and the benefits that each possesses. It is through my acquaintance with the night that my senses have been finely tuned filling in the spaces that are not discernable as the Sun waits it's turn on the other side of the Earth. The light of my memory is used to decipher the darkness and my sense of touch brings clarity to what presents itself before Me. The Day brings My vision into it's full potential storing the sights into my memory to be brought forth as the Sun once more rushes away leaving me to plot my course once more through the dimness. I value both for what they bring to Me an avidly search out each one's unique gifts.
Those who begin their work as the evening approaches possess or acquire a different personality and philosophy than those of their Daylight counterparts as I have found. Though still acute, Their personalities mirror the softness of the hours surronding them without the magnification of discrepanceies that the day brings so scrutinizingly. Their skills in their specialties are enhanced with the luxury of examination without distraction making many of their judgements clear and precise. There is no glaring competition between co-workers since many have withstood that storm and no longer wish to be in the eye of controversy. "Flying under the Radar" is an ever present part of their terminology. I find no 'Grave' in the 'Graveyard Shift.'
Though much work is to be done, it is achieved in a stillness that the Day cannot comprehend. As paperwork is reviewed, patient's assessed and preparations for the day are made, the environment is lighter and not chained to the taut schedule of the day. Rather it is loosely woven routine achieving what is necessary but allowing one a luxury to perform their tasks uninterrupted and unencumbered until completion. The voices needn't be loud to carry over the frantic pace and sounds that the day brings but, rather hushed and in an intimate conversational tone without the need to compete with the clamoring of so many in a edifice during the daylight. Whilst in those Sunlit hours it is a cacophany of intermittently pitched sounds and energies that reverberate against the walls shattering the Peace of the stealthiest Soul and interrupting the tasks of the most diligent. The differences between the 2 shifts are innumerable.
As I sit at my Station with my tasks before Me, it is not unusual that a patient may wander sleepless from His room searching for a diversion. It is then that I have the priceless luxury of putting down my pen or turning from a keyboard to focus My attention upon them. I'v found the conversations to err on the side of the truth during these times. With My whole attentiveness being focused upon the person across from the desk there is little reason to fabricate tales as our eyes lock onto each other with concerns being addressed in a matter of fact manner with a tone of voice that is soothing. You can detect the rigidness of their posture softly melting and their vocal tone being lowered to match that of the one being spoken to. They have unwittingly embraced the spirit of the night and eventually return to their beds unsure of the reason that their fears our allayed and a serenity surrounds them. Once safely in their beds, I can calmly resume My work.
For many years I heard foreboding stories regarding working the night shift. The tales went as far as to cite incidences of sudden onsets of poor health, low productivity and schisms within families. Though I'm sure that their may be some truth to these stories, I haven't found it to be so. Rather, I have found myself in a place that destiny had prescribed for Myself before I could walk and able to perceive this New world in the fashion of a child's joy and wonderment. After all, How could you sustain discord or an intolerance as the Moon is bathing you in it's light, the Stars give glimpses of the galaxies that surround them and in the distance, the mournful call of a whippoorwill reaches out to You? I can't.

Vintage Gunne Sax Style Candi Jones Sundress Lovely!

I reluctantly listed this dress today (Sometimes these dresses are difficult to part with). This Candi Jones dress is from the early 70s and is comprised of a lightweight, cotton blend with blue and pink flowers strewn upon a field of white. The entire bodice is smocked in a pristine elastic and it zips in the back. Entirely lined in white acetate it floats and billows around you. I vividly remember similar dresses where I donned only a macrame ankle bracelet and carelessly tossed my sandals to the side to either feel the softness of the grass or an unencumbered connection with the Earth. More description and pictures are present at my shop
http://zibbet.com/artemis53 This is the link http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=575565

Celebration of the Dawn

May your day be filled with the wonder of a Child!

Morning Musings

As You may know, I love to write. To me, Life is what surrounds You and you must celebrate every minute that is gifted to You. When I tap at a keyboard, I don't bring images of different Countries or Grand expanses. I write about what is Dearest to me. That is my Home and surroundings. I celebrate the Mornings and the Glories of my flowers that I'v lovingly planted along with Memories that I'v accrued through the Years. It is a part of my very essence. This is a short story that I penned this morning after one of my cherished 'walks.'
ONCE MORE
I awakened to the Dawn having already broken this Morning and a Cat perched next to me tentatively touching my face with His paws. My blue eyes met His green and I pulled at the sheet and summer afghan on My bed. His signal given, he bounded from the bed to the floor towards the hallway. He knew that breakfast would soon be His.
I said a silent Thank You as I rose from the bed and my feet hit the floor but didn't bound down the hall as he had. Instead, I pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top on grabbing my shoes and socks as I walked to the kitchen. By the time I arrived, 3 uniquely distinct felines were surveying their food bowls and casting glances at Me. It was their time for their morning meal and sat patiently as I gathered the bowls and opened the cans. My "Alpha' would always be served first with the 2 littermates in tandem. As they began their meals, I sat to put my shoes and socks on and headed towards the door to the garage. With a push of a Button the steel door laboriously raised itself up and I could feel the coolness of the morning air. My Second task of the early hours was now at hand.
The colors of the Day were clear and brilliant with the lawn and trees an Emerald color and the Sky a powder blue with muted clouds that hadn't boundaries, rather, angular projections of white filling in the sky. As I crossed in front of My lawn the Ruby Red of My Lincoln Roses added a Contrast to the palette and a fleeting reminder of trimming them back entered my head soon to vanish with the next vision in front of Me. A yellow school bus passed by and I could feel my heart twist in the same fashion that my back was as it adjusted itself to the familiar irregularities of the street. The Bus did not stop at the end of my road as it had often done before, for My street had lost it's children to time. They had disappeared into adults as all do who had inhabited these Homes, fashioning their own courses in life as I had once walked before. The tightness in my throat subsided with my reverie as a ray of sunlight caught and latched itself to me bringing me back to the present. I had already traversed many years passed by the time I came to my road sign.
Onto the adjoining thoroughfare I turned as I straightened my back and set myself in a determined motion. I claimed this time as mine but was sorely mistaken as cars passed my lone figure in a tempestuous scramble to arrive at their work. The atmosphere took on an acrid smell from the exhaust and my lower back contorted itself once again as I was relegated to the side of the road to let them pass. There worlds and mine would not collide today except for a fleeting passing mixed with exhaust fumes. Their mission would be run by the hands of a clock, whilst mine would be determined by the pull on the strings of my heart. I took great joy in that revelation of the purest freedom.
The creek moved slowly as it filtered through the field of the curving entry way to my rural neighborhood. It gave no clue by sound that it existed. It just quietly meandered through the greenery flowing beneath the blacktop to empty into the cattle pond where it spilled it's contents, giving the Pond Life and Life to the Pond.
Most of the activity at this watering hole had ceased earlier as the Dawn stole the Night erupting into it's brilliance. The cattle and horses munched lazily at it's edges with the Herons unperturbed by their presence. The Family of Mallards were now in the very middle lazily paddling and teaching their ducklings that safety lies in the depths rather than the shallows, a hard but simple lesson for the Young. Their presence were of a soft and unspoken beauty.
I passed the lawn of 'Just Because' named by children who had inhabited the area in those Days of the Past. A Homeowner had bought 2 lots long ago. On one was perched His 2 story house but the other was his garden. In the Spring he chose not to mow it allowing the earth to bring forth a myriad of field flowers that he'd sewn long ago that would melt into an explosive spray of white dogwoods as March set itself in place. Summer was titled the Crepe Myrtle from the lightest lilac color to a magenta then white. In the Fall, the property would be decorated by hay bales and pumpkins. I ticked another item off of My mental the list that the Harvest Season would be soon upon Us.
I took the swing back to home at the halfway point and once more felt my body adjust to it's upright posture as each foot doggedly placed it self in time to the demands of the rolling hill that I would have to contend with. My spine resumed it's natural curve as my lower back could feel the muscles tightening against the gravity that I was attempting to overcome. My ankles steadied themselves sending signals to my calves to shorten and my thighs to push through and raise each foot in synchrony. As the mission of conquering height was accomplished, I could feel the relaxation take hold as I passed the corner of the white, boarded fence. I continued my well rehearsed steps back onto my familiar lane with the roses once more greeting me and the impatiens crying out in their numerous shades "Welcome Home.". I set my feet upon the drive and entered the house through the garage, once more refreshed and renewed. I spied that the cat bowls were empty as I opened the cap on my bottled water and poured it down my parched throat. In front of Me lie a life that I had created. From a warm and inviting kitchen to the elegance of the chinoissere that held my Lladros and Family Doultons I made my way through my Home. As I passed by the Foyer I gently touched the base of the cross that had once adorned my Grandparent's bedroom and acknowledged a presence much larger than myself. I didn't need the parting of seas or manna from the heavens. I'd already experienced today's miracles in and of themselves.

Vintage Gunne Sax Lace Jacket

This is a Rare and Beautiful Gunne sax Lace Jacket from the 70s. The condition is Flawless . The lace is attached to a satin, quilted Yoke with satin strings to tie in the front. The sleeves have a slight bell shape to them. The piece is in a lovely candlelight Color. It would truly be a Beautiful accent for a Vintage Dress or one of today's flowing Gowns.
http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=544545

From Night to Day

Good Morning to all! Though a little tired from staying up last night, I doggedly pulled on the Spandex and sneakers and made my way outside. The darkness was still in place and I could see the contellation of Scorpio clearly in the sky. As I turned my eyes to the East I could see that the light was cutting through the darkness revealing the outlines of treetops that would be first to claim the Sun's warmth. Though I could see them from afar, I was not joined to them for I was still a creature of the night treading upon the tarmac and and passing the glow of the solar lights. I was still a sentinel of the Darkness.
I could barely make out the Cattle pond as I passed it and yet saw the formations of the cows wading in the cool depths as they slept aright in the stillness. At this point, I pulled myself to my most upright posture and increased my stride. My quadriceps tightened and my calves lengthened to match the change of my increased height and the familiar 'burn' began as my knees acted as ratchets propelling me forward. I didn't need a written sign or landmark to signal the halfway point of my ritual, my body spoke of it clearly as it was finishing the memorized decline and the incline to be contested with after. The sky was lightening and I gave Thanks for the cool air that accompanied me and aided me as It rushed in and out of Myself in synchrony. It propelled me on and allowing me to feel each muscle as it went through it's cascade of movements to allow me the privilige of locomotion.
As I saw the form of my street sign while I was continuing my steps, a familiar sound pierced the silence of the waning night. Once more the Owl could be heard. It was a call of recognition and I acknowledged it gladly. Again it called back in a reprimanding way as if he were chiding me for not coming out earlier yesterday to share His lightless habitat. As a final admonishment. He flew above Me cutting the sky soundlessly with His wings, a bulky form that landed in the Oaks of My tree surrounded Home haughtily showing me the way.
I sauntered from the street onto my driveway and the motion detector lights gleamed harshly illuminating my way to the garage. As I walked in the door I glaved at My my richly fed cats lazing, enjoying one more nap before the dawn that would demand antics of them. As I breezed through the kitchen into the livingroom I was surrounded by the comfort of the Furniture that was once my Grandparents and My Parents after them. A tiny smile emerged upon My face. I felt at peace.

Gunne Sax Jessica McClintock Wedding Dress

I truly have a Soft spot in My heart for new brides. they approach marriage with an enthusiasm rarely found and Nowadays a practicality that has been gone for some Generations. They wish to be Partners, this dress is for that grown 'little girl' that wishes to be a 'Vision' proceeding down the Aisle. Jessica mcClintock could handily present that dream and this is only one example. I have other's on my site http://zibbet.com/artemis53 This just happens to be a New Favorite for Now!

http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=541669

Morning Breaks

This is the First Writing of One of My Muses as I Begin My Days
'MORNING BREAKS'
I have been recently subscribing to the dictum that “Change is Good.” With that in mind, I am struggling against my ‘inner child’ and awakening early in the morning for a walk to start my day. As I acclimate myself to this ritual I find it to become less difficult (not easy) and immerse myself as I would in a spring fed lake that’s icy waters send shockwaves through your psyche and the term ‘awaken’ takes on a new meaning.
As is now my habit, I awaken as the night and day divide, pull on my spandex and sneakers and venture out to see what the morning holds. My clothing is not made to impress but rather to facilitate the task before me. Fashion is not to be dealt with yet.
When my feet hit the pavement, my muscles awaken from their reverie in a confusing sequence of synaptic balance sending signals to my brain that all is not right. My calves and thighs pull back as I stride forward but their efforts are fruitless. For my newfound ritual they reward me with twinges of pain that I am now able to ignore for I am in the moment and have become a part of the day.
I swing the first corner and I head for the center ‘crowning’ of the street, to aid my balance and set my center of gravity. It is now that my body reluctantly follows perfecting each step into a rhythm and retrieving the memory of my days as a runner.
As my pace progresses, the cool morning air rushes in and out of my lungs holding court with the cadence of my footsteps. It is now that I am truly able to see my surroundings and keenly take them in. The solar lamps still hold a glimmer as I approach the end of my property to illuminate my way at this time that has no name, not being able to claim the title of day or night. It is uniquely it’s own as I drink in it’s unnamed essence.
To the right of me I can make out the outlines of the “House of Broken Dreams’. It’s a large, impressive structure with turrets and gingerbread detailing that was only lived in for a year. The family that once resides in it broke apart and the house was soon to follow. Just as the owners dreams had crumbled, the house follows suit as the porch falls into decay and the driveway buckles allowing the weeds to spring from the cracks. The trees reach closer to the siding and the vining takes over the railings where it will progress back into the woods long forgotten as the persons that once inhabited it.

I pass the cattle pond and the egrets take great amusement in skimming across the water each taking It’s turn. Herons ignore their antics and gingerly navigate the shallows to find any prizes in their wake while the mallards paddle aimlessly into the depths oblivious to the activity around them.

On the white fenceposts perch the crows let out their shrieks of disapproval as I enter their newly claimed space. As I invade their territory, I can feel the burn in my legs as I as the muscles strain against the incline. My breathing pattern changes as I garnish more oxygen out of necessity and patiently await for the next turn that will be a soft decline. I am now fully awake and am able to process the true glories of an unfettered morning. The smell of magnolias rushes to me, evoking memories of years gone by and the cardinals greet me with lyrical tones as they play tag with me hopping along my pathway and rushing to the trees at the last moment.
I take my turn back when I can see sunlight touching the very tops of the trees and wonder what it really feels like to come in first. The creek throws up a light haze as it adjusts itself to a newly found temperature which will disappear as soon as it finds its balance just as I have.
I finally begin the end of my journey as I place my feet back on my street and spy the vastness of the property and my home. The Great Oaks stand mightily adorned with the Spanish moss that gives them a lace like quality and I spy the oldest one of 200 years and see my children playing in it one more time yet knowing that they are now grown. My morning purpose at an end, I begin the walk up the driveway and ponder the moment that I was once a part of and now is past. I’ve been given the great gift of another morning. I pray that I hold it close and keep a tiny bit of it’s glory for this present of a New Day!