Monday, May 9, 2016
On Mother's Day Morning
It's Mother's Day. It's 5:30am. The sky is lightening, the sun slowly rising. I can hear the rooster cock-a-doodle-doing, he's a little eager to get out of the coop on this beautiful morning. I put the kettle on, and head outside. A chill is in the air, and the wind from last night has blown the outdoor furniture around. I breathe in the fresh morning air. The dog, Shelby, knowing my routine, makes her way to the porch to be fed. As she happily eats, I scoop up some chicken feed, and make my way, slowly, to the chicken coop. Along the way I walk pass the front gardens, the ones I worked on Saturday morning. I remember the feel of my hands in the dirt as they planted little bits of magic and hope in the earth. Kale, Swiss chard, spinach, salad greens, sugar peas, snap peas, and carrots tucked into the damp earth, waiting for just the right moment to burst forth with life. The rooster calls again, and I make my way to the coop. As I open the door he is the first one out, full of life, and ready to take on the day. The hens, still a little sleepy, slowly make their way out, a few take a little longer, like they themselves are taking a deep breath before stepping out into the world for the day. I sprinkle their food on the ground, add some to their feeder, and then make my way to the little cottage in the backyard. The back garden, with garlic shoots popping through the straw, and strawberry leaves slowly unfurling, catches my gaze. The herb garden, cleaned out on Saturday, has blossomed to life. The yarrow, lemon balm, bee balm, chives and catnip seem to be saying thank you with their vibrant green leaves. I spy the first planting of peas, planted three weeks ago, sprouting, reaching towards the sun. In the cottage, the cat is still snuggled warmly in her bed. She peeks out at me, and tucks in again, not quite ready to join me. Strolling around the yard, I pick up chair cushions, and put chairs back where they belong. The chickadees are singing their morning song, a rose breasted grosbeak lands on a branch not far from me, the first one of the season, and the red winged blackbirds are sitting high in the lilac bushes, their beautiful call filling the air. As I top up the bird feeders, my wild feathered friends wait patiently, high above. A few have courage, and hop down from up high to get a little closer, to check me out. It feels special to be this close to nature on this quiet morning, to connect to the earth, this place, this land. I am deeply rooted here, planted, much like the seeds I put in the earth on Saturday, and over the years, like those seeds, I have grown, changed, unfurled, becoming more of who I am, and who I want to be. In that moment, I smile, grateful for the journey that has brought me here. As I slowly make my way back to the house, I feel alive, my heart is happy. I quietly sneak back into the house, hoping I don't wake my little man. I make a cup of tea, and I sit for a moment in silence, and then inspired, find myself writing, sharing with you the start of my day, Mother's Day, my first as a single mama.