Sunday Morning

I tiptoe softly out of the house, tea in hand, camera over my shoulder. The soft, still air is filled with morning bird song. Streaks of sun peek through the trees, catching the dew drops, making them sparkle. I walk slowly around the yard, breathing deeply, enjoying the early morning peace.

Natures beauty is not lost on me. I stop, I notice, I try to capture it with my lens. I watch a dew drop fall slowly from a leaf to the ground. Leaves that once adorned the birch tree, are now scattering themselves on the green  grass. Tomato plants, heavy with fruit, look wild and crazy, and flowers, in different states of bloom, add a dimension of beauty to the garden. Quiet mornings, like this one, offer connection to myself, and to the earth.

My tea is done, my soul alive. I walk slowly back into our home, the sound of laughter echos from the bedroom. They are up. Pumpkin pancakes are made, and a batch of pumpkin granola slowly baked in the oven. More tea is steeped, and then breakfast enjoyed, slowly.

I love Sunday mornings.