Saturday, August 17, 2019

The Promise of a New Day

Each morning holds the full promise of a new day. Each morning is a new chance to approach the day with a clean slate, to make progress, to plan, and to quietly reflect. After taking care of some morning "farm" chores like feeding the chickens, cat, and dogs, pulling on some sandals over socks (not a great combination, but alright for simply driving the car) and dropping Nature Girl off for a morning hike, I ran through a mock-up of my day in my mind. 

I also stopped to photograph some neighboring miniature horses and their sweet baby at the dawn of its life. They were so peaceful, and there is nothing like the velvety soft nose of a horse rubbing against your hand while its flared nostrils take in your scent and breathe it back out at you in gentle snorts. 

 In my thoughts, my day looked something like this: Leisurely absorbing the growing light and warmth of the day, watching the dew subside from the grass and trees, savoring a decaf Mexican Mocha while scrambling eggs and heating turkey sausage, and eating outdoors on the East Deck as the sun peeks over the trees to meet me. After breakfast, I would clean the living room, dining room, and kitchen, and place the beautiful flower bouquet vase from Women's Prayer night as the centerpiece of my freshly scrubbed farmhouse table. Next, I would pick up Nature Girl and we would go on a planned adventure in town, and then we would settle in somewhere for a bit of knitting and chatting and reading together. Then, we would head back home in the afternoon to tend the animals and plan and begin dinner. 

In reality, my day has looked more like: The dogs going outside to relieve themselves and getting full of burrs because they went on an adventure of their own through the dry August grasses and vegetation of Deer Palace, then digging through Nature Girl's closet to find the items we need to bring for the planned adventure, realizing that tickets are required for the adventure and looking online to purchase the tickets, only to find out that "ticket sales have ended" and we *might* be able to purchase tickets at the door (if supplies are available by the time we arrive). Mexican Mocha getting cold on the counter while I cook my breakfast. Eating my breakfast indoors in front of the computer while I try to work out whether we will be able to get tickets or not...then realizing a trip ticket for a family member who is about to embark on a trip has an error, and spending almost an hour on the phone with the issuing company to correct the error. On hold for over 10 minutes, give information, then on hold for several more minutes, then speak to someone else WHO DISCONNECTS THE CALL (accidentally?) while placing me on yet another hold...begin again with the original hold muzak and explain all over again when someone finally answers... 

Thus, the time available for tidying the living room, dining room, and kitchen passed on by, and the sun met the tops of the trees without me there to see it, and the rest of the day may or may not go as "planned", and it is time to jump in the shower and get actually ready to be in public without hair akimbo and being clad in a sock/sandal/pajama pants combination. After shower, ready to run out the door...and get a message that the hike took longer than expected, and it will be an additional 1/2 hour before I can pick her up because they are still driving and are in a town 30 miles away. Cool my heels while I wait. Is there enough time to do some of that tidying? No!

In the end, we had a fabulously fun day. We got to the event, and they gave us free tickets. We went to a thrift store, a book exchange (I had taken a box of 29 books to exchange), late lunch, and a beautiful drive in the top-down convertible. We stopped and cut a cattail because Nature Girl had never touched one before. How did we get so many years collected without ever stopping to cut a cattail? The feel is hard to describe: firm, fuzzy, soft, almost as velvety as the horse nose from this morning, but in a very dense way. Cattail info: "(genus Typha), genus of about 30 species of tall reedy marsh plants (family Typhaceae), found mainly in temperate and cold regions of the Northern and Southern hemispheres. The plants inhabit fresh to slightly brackish waters and are considered aquatic or semi-aquatic."

This day did not completely follow my plan or my imaginings, and I did not complete the chores that were on my "to-do" list, and there was no knitting, and dinner was made of leftovers, but there was so much LIVING in this day that it didn't matter that some of the things were left undone. Tomorrow will be another brand new day, and each and every day dawns with the same clean slate, the same chance to accomplish tasks and goals, the same promise.

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