Monday, June 20, 2011

Easy Like Saturday Morning

   Last week was tough.  It was happy and insanely productive but truly laborious from early Monday till late Friday.  I am not complaining or trying to get pity here; My husband has a talent for riding the tsunamis of life as though he actually thrives on it, like work and challenges are paradoxically the fuel he needs to meet those challenges.  But this comes at the expense of total depletion by the end of the swell.  So this past weekend was much needed.  We enjoyed Friday night together then agreed to sleep late the one day of the week we can both do that.

   Despite our hope to sleep late and quite irregardless* of the fact that we crashed long past midnight in the darkest, quietest room in the house (not our bedroom), our Saturday morning started as early as any work day. 

   That is just how things go sometimes.

   We both laid there and tried to keep our eyes weighted down and our bodies still, as if trying to fool ourselves back to sleep, but dawn had already found us out and the day was beginning. 
   Birdsong was still fresh and soft, not yet important sounding; coffee was brewing faithfully in the kitchen; and pulsing orange sunlight had silently elbowed its way between the living room curtains.  It was an earlier wake up call than we had craved for our Saturday, but it was a gentle and beautiful one. 
  
   After a few minutes of kissing and stretching and laughing about our mutual inability to sleep very late, Handsome and I rolled out of our cozy Green Room nest.  Pacino (our macaw) greeted us with sweet nothings and feathery cuddles.  Soon I was armed with two mugs of perfect hot coffee and a bag of stale hot dog buns.  The latter was for the chickens, not my husband.  He eats slightly better than that most days.

   I found Handsome on the east sidewalk untethering our comfiest patio chairs.  (We keep them bungee-corded to a metal garden table because of the ridiculous wind here.)  He welcomed me to sit with him, and I gave him his coffee. 

   Our twenty one chickens, six guineas, and one Tom turkey (named Clark-Grievous) discovered our appearance and had us surrounded in a flash.  We are catnip to our poultry children, just to let you know.  And this Saturday morning the Catnip Poultry Parents had stale hot dog buns to share. 

   So we luxuriated in the special Oklahoma morning, breezy but not windy and warm but not hot.  It felt brimming with possibility and pleasure.  We sipped coffee, feeding the skittish and hilarious birds, watching and listening to the farm wake up. 

   By the time the sun was fully visible through the trees in the east field, we had emptied both our hot dog bun baggie and the coffee pot.  The horses were whinnying about why in the world THEY didn't get a pre-breakfast treat.   

   And I was grateful to have not slept late, happy not to have missed this.

*hi Margi!

pinnable

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