I come to my office when I get up. It's a 50-some-foot trek from the back door of the house to the double doors at the far end of the detached garage. It's always dark when I come out, and the weather determines how quickly I make the walk. I've been known to hustle if it's raining or the wind's blowing particularly hard.
Other than that, I saunter. Because morning's my favorite time of day and because I love seeing and hearing the day wake up. Sometimes the cats, Gabe and Susie, join me as I come out here, begging for breakfast even though at the ages of 19 and approximately 12, they probably know they won't get it until after the sun comes up. Of course they also know, because I've said it every day of their lives, that they need to "get out from under my feet!"
I love the sounds of where we live, regardless of the season--although it's hunting season now, and I could definitely do without hearing gunshots. Harvesting is still going on, and the equipment has already hummed to life in the fields. Trucks rumble past the house, and it's almost as if they're trying to be quiet so as not to wake anyone. Deer rustle through the cornfields. I fancy I can see them casting looks back over their shoulders to see if the hunters are eyeing them.
It's frosty this morning, so everything rustles because it's all crisp. In a neighborhood often redolent of reminders that livestock live here, too, there is a cleanness to the smell of mornings like this that I can't even describe. But I can so appreciate it. I step outside occasionally in my slippered feet and my office sweater just to take a deep breath and remember how grateful I am.
It's Thanksgiving week. Wishing you joyful and healthy days. I hope they're crunchy.