Sunday Morning

Today, I was back on the walking road, out the door before 5:30 a.m., but not with pack, because I am still in the throes of trying to figure out the best way to manage all my "stuff". So, out the door, down the road. I have figured out a good route that's about 4.5 miles, and takes me down major streets where, if necessary, I could stop for a bathroom break. Very important to 50 year old women, these bathroom breaks!

It's that lovely time of year, the days are still long because of daylight savings time, but despite our ongoing manipulation of the clock, it's still darker longer in the mornings, and it's getting darker earlier in the evenings. You can't fool Mother Nature, no matter what the clock might say. So, the stars were still out when I left, Orion standing guard at my right as I headed a couple blocks east, then turned north. I smelled skunk, and thought I might have seen one up the road a bit, but a truck came along, and blocked my view, and when it had passed, whatever the animal had been, it was gone.

I had thought that Sunday morning at that time would be almost deadly quiet, but it seemed to be even noisier--people out on the porch, doors open, etc. The state fair is in town till Labor Day, so maybe that's got people all eager to get up before 6 am on a Sunday morning, who knows. As I reached the first of the 2 major streets that I walk on, I noticed there was less traffic there, but still, a lot, I thought, for a Sunday. The sky was getting lighter, and the birds were coming alive. I had hoped that I might see the bats again, and I thought at one point I did, something flying low and erratic, but it was too far away for me to really know if it was bats or just sleepy birds!

I turned off the first "main drag" onto the second. Halfway home. Even though it's a very busy street, it's in a residential area, so for this part of my walk, I actually walk on the sidewalks, and being closer to the houses, and under the trees, muffles the sounds of the traffic surprisingly well. The flowers are still well underway: cosmos, black-eyed susans, roses (roses love Pueblo!), etc. As I got up to the hospital that is about 7 blocks from our house, I came out from under the trees and looked to the east, behind the building. The sun was coming up, and the undersides of the clouds were turning rosy, then building quickly to a brilliant orange/fuscia mixture that only lasts for a few moments. Then everything started to turn a lighter orange, brilliant gold, with highlights of white, some mauve, and darker blues on the outskirts of where the sun was coming up. I can't do it justice, and some of you will know exactly what I mean when I say it was a perfect Maxfield Parrish morning sky. I had to stop for a few minutes and just watch it happen. The miracle of a new day coming, yet again. Another chance for all of us to do more things right. What a blessing.

Shortly, I walked on, and as I glanced westward, noticed a large, solitary bird sitting at the very tip top of a big, dead cottonwood tree. I had to cross the street to see what it was. I believe it was a young eagle or other bird of prey. It sat quietly, watching me. I could not get very close to the tree, as there was a lot of detritus from a construction project on the hospital between us. But I got close enough, and he spread his wings a couple of times before flying off. I couldn't swear to the species, but I'm still 99% sure it was some kind of raptor.

After that, it was time to wrap it up. My brief pauses for observation had given me a second wind, and I was home shortly, where I was greeted by the tiny chittering of our visiting summer hummingbirds. They have become used to us coming and going around the yard in the morning, and sometimes will fill right in front of my face and just stop there--face on, as if to say, "Who do you think YOU are, walking around in MY territory?" For such tiny creatures they have immense personalities. Just for the hope of seeing them, I will always plant agastache and anise hyssop and bee balm, no matter where I end up living.

And so, with coffee and breakfast done, I'm here, and now I'm off to do a bit of work. Today's walk was powerful, and I hope, a sign of wonderful walks to come, very soon, in another place.

Blessings on you all,

Crone