A December Project - day 2
signs of light and beauty in a season of darkness
Saturday, December 2nd [45 degrees]
Our old dog is like clockwork; he visits my bedside at 6:35 am every morning to demand a walk. Today was no different as I sat up with a groan, feeling for my glasses on the nightstand, trying to recall what it was like to sleep in on a Saturday and considering the idea of going back to bed after our jaunt to the back lawn. Down the stairs we went, I still in my red plaid pajamas, grabbing for whatever coat was close - a pink one, and shoes to slip on - my son’s size 13 blue Crocs—a sight to behold.
As we stepped out, my annoyance with the dear old fellow turned to gratitude. Yesterday’s rain settled overnight, leaving behind a thick, low-hung fog, and like a siren, it called to me. So, in my oversized shoes, I began to walk, thoughts of bed long gone. For fog at dawn is the epitome of ‘living in the moment’ - with each second of daylight, the magical beauty resting on the landscape dissipates. Myself, the dogs, a couple of frolicking kitties, and a distant pair of Blue Jays were all that seemed awake, and I was glad for it. What would passers-by have thought - this vagabond-looking woman traveling down the beaten path in dense fog? [Albeit, in my imagination, I looked more like Elizabeth Bennet on one of her solitary walks through the countryside of Kent.]
We neared the end of the loop, me in quiet contemplation and my companions more concerned with the scents left behind from last night’s visitors than the beauty of the old bridge shrouded in mist - to each their own. The light was now rising behind the gray wall of cloud cover and I could hear the ducks calling from the barn for breakfast. My thoughts moving towards more pressing matters - coffee. It was time to head home.
