How Many Mornings?

How many perfect mornings do you get?

Every single one you get.  

Sometimes they are easy to recognize

and other times you have to squint to see

and listen hard to hear

the beating of your heart

and the snort of deer

- warning the herd of the approaching threat.*

Sometimes it is just a perfect morning. While we started out late, the day was dawning and gave us such a different experience.

The temperature was cool. And the view? We came around the corner and started down the last hill - the sight of the old truss river bridge bearing the first few cars of the early to work always makes me smile - a youthful memory not yet the victim of upgrade. Above that the skeletal trees, still holding out against one more spell of cold weather, reached up to a necklace of lights from the next town over followed by the vivid colors of the sunrise and the dark layer of clouds.

We decided to walk to the first meadow...where we felt, but did not see the deer herd. They had left scent, prints in the dusty road, and a sense of their having deserted the clearing just as we passed the tree line. We will try again another day.

We noted buttercups blooming along the way home and Padimus attempted to engage an older hound who responded with only a bored look. Mohawk dog and friends made up for the snub. It will soon be time for his haircut and we cannot wait. He is a different dog in the summer. But then aren't we all a little different in the summer?

NOTES:

* This memory popped up in social media and I check to see if it was saved here. It wasn't, but now it is.