Waking Up

"... Except for paying attention, 

what else is continual prayer?"

-- Samuel Green, The Grace of Necessity

8:47 AM. This morning I have the gift of time. Nowhere I have to be. Nothing to do that can't wait a couple of hours. This is what I have done so far. 

I stumbled downstairs, my brain still wrapped in its thick fleece robe, not eager to wake up. I took note that the day was starting out sunny and warm, June gloom apparently on holiday somewhere up the coast. I smelled the coffee before I poured a cup, feeling grateful to my husband for making it every morning. (I'm not quite capable of making coffee until I've had coffee.) I decided to take my cup outside and take advantage of this glorious morning.

Stepping out the front door all of my senses began to wake up, the way they do when I crawl out of a tent on a camping trip. I felt the cool morning air on my bare arms. I heard the birds and the neighbors bustling about in their morning routines. I noticed the sun illuminating the leaves on my two Japanese Maple trees, one with green leaves, one with red, and remembered planting each of those trees, amazed by how much they have grown in a few short years.

My dog Zeke padded outside and requested a belly scratch. I obliged and then he stretched out at my feet, my loyal companion. I smelled the comforting aroma of morning coffee with each sip and felt the caffeine waking my sleepy brain. A gust of cool air caught me in its path, lifting my hair off my shoulders before gently letting it fall back. I wondered when the inevitable summer fog would return.  

I picked up the book I received in the mail just a few days ago. It had been waiting patiently for me, calling to me with its' new book smell and crisp, stiff cover: The Pen and the Bell: Mindful Writing in a Busy World, by Brenda Miller and Holly J. Hughes. After reading the first chapter I knew I'd found the perfect inspiration for writing this summer. 

Back inside I brewed another pot of coffee, awake now and able to appreciate the ritual of measuring the water, grinding the beans. Listening to the gurgle of the coffee maker, I turned on the computer. And when the coffee was ready, I sat down to write.

***
Confession: Postcards from Tuesday is appearing on Thursday this week because I was sucked into an episode of the BBC show, Sherlock on Tuesday night, a fun summer diversion if ever there was one.