MORNINGS

This was written September 2 

I waken before the alarm, just long enough to disconnect the machine which keeps me breathing evenly through the night,

but which also causes interference in the radio reception.  I don't want to hear the static interrupting the morning broadcast.

This is where I hear the weather report for the day.  I stretch, turn over and anticipate the line up of daily activities, including my morning walk.

I'm reluctant to get out of bed but if I don't do the walk in the morning, it will not happen.

I wash my face to wake me, dress quickly in my most comfortable "walking'"clothes, and head out the door.

There is a chill in the air, the thermometer says 12degrees,  not really cold but I put on my big red shirt, partly to keep my arms

from being chilly, but also to be visible to anyone who may be taking practice shots in anticipation of hunting season, opening soon.

I know that I will be too warm before I return home, but I can always tie my shirt around my waist if that occurs.

On yesterday's walk, I did hear distant gunshots, although they could have been, I was later told, coming from the nearby gun club's shooting range.

It is 8:02 on my phone, which I tuck into my pocket, retrieve my two canes from the trunk of my car, put on my walking shoes, an old pair of sandals

which have almost had their day, but which are comfortable and withstand the gravel portions of the road I use, and head down my driveway.

There are indentations in the long grass indicating that perhaps the local deer have slept there all night, feeling safely protected up against the scraggly

bushes pretending to be my hedge.  Further evidence that the neighbours cats have visited my yard, left their calling card, and hopefully reduced the

population of mice a little more.

I look at my walnut tree, recently stripped of all it's harvest by the wretched squirrels a few days ago.  I wasn't even aware that the nuts were even close to

ripe.  Perhaps the squirrels know something about the oncoming winter that we don't, even though the farmer's almanac seems to know the same.

It is quiet and so peaceful and fresh at this time of the morning.  I reach the end of my driveway and meet my neighbour who is off to the gym, which has

implemented a day-care service for young mothers with babies.  Her baby is now nine months old.  How fortunate we are to have such services available.

I pause, deciding whether to take my usual route, up the hill behind me or down the hill toward the main road.  I can't decide if it's better to start with a hill and

finish with a cool down, or finish with the hill coming back home.  I choose the latter and continue on down the road.  I have a goal in sight,  and reach it in

fifteen minutes.  I stop to admire the beautiful morning sky with varying shades of grey clouds, and the sun trying to break through creating

a very dramatic scene over the corn field, which is in full bloom, the fragrance wafting in the fresh air.   I take a few pictures with my little phone's camera,

unable to see clearly exactly what is in the viewfinder as I am facing the bright light.

Several vehicles have passed me, people on their way to start their day's work while I am unconstrained by that necessity.  I turn and start my walk back home,

the hill in front of me as my final challenge.  The smells in the air change from the perfume of the corn, to the odour of the horses on the adjacent properties.

I see that one of my neighbours now has several miniature horses, another addition to the area, with llamas on another property.

I notice the odd beer can in the ditch, hoping that it is not from anyone living in this area, at the same time wondering who, nearby, has been so disrespectful of

their surroundings that they carelessly throw garbage out the window of their car, because it is certainly not walkers who are doing this.  

I having been walking on the flat but now approach the hill, and I'm nearly home.  I'm puffing, regularly sucking in as much fresh air as I can, trying to remember

 yoga breathing, in through the nose and exhale through the mouth, and am now sweating, wondering why I did put on that shirt.  I stop to pickup a note from a

neighbour, up the driveway and one last circle around and I'm home.  Fourty minutes today, more than usual and I'm happy with that.  I stop at the car, change

my shoes, drop the canes in the trunk and am ready to start the day.

FRUSTRATIONS:

Today was the day my new internet service was to begin.  So far I have made four calls to the provider,  twice been disconnected, presumably at their end, and

twice my land line has gone completely dead,  making it impossible for me to call them again.  Each time I have to go through the wait time, the verification as to

who I am and why I'm calling.  I had decided to make this call before having breakfast, as I've been trying to consume my 32oz of water before eating.  Now, more

than an hour later,  I have still had no satisfaction from the ISP and still haven't eaten.  I'm ready to give up on them.  At the very least I am able to write my notes,

and save them for later transmission.