Most mornings I hook Summer up and we take a walk. Some days she likes to patrol the grounds, but most days she heads up the hill. We go about a quarter mile along the road, look both ways, cross the street and head back to the house.
The sky looks different every day. My favorite of God’s paintings are when the sun is just over the hill northeast of us, not quite over our short horizon, and the clouds reflect the rising light, different hues all the time.
This morning a lone seagull danced in the sky, bright in the sunlight, while the land below was cast in morning shadow still. The bird may or may not have been rejoicing in the sun, but the sight touched my heart with peace and joy.
On the top of a tree along the road, a red-winged blackbird chattered, “I am the king of all I survey.” About 50 feet away another red-winged blackbird chattered back, “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re not the boss of me!” It was a vivid conversation.
I imagined their turning their ire on me and crying, “Oh, look, there’s the moron who said last week you haven’t heard us lately so we must have gone away for the winter. Well, can you hear me now, buddy? Huh? Can you hear me now?”
There are mornings when I look at Summer lingering by the front door and say, “Oh, not today, honey, please, let me just sit this morning.” Even on those mornings, I am refreshed and happier when we get back from our little journey.
