It’s Mother’s Day and I am up at 5:50 am. Something is dramatically wrong with this situation I’m thinking to myself. I can’t possibly be the only one in the house who can hear our 14-year-old husky dog barking to get out. I don’t hold it against the dog. She’s wonderful and old and is still able to consistently, and I will add insistently, let us know she’s got to go. So I think further that getting up and heeding her call is better than the alternative. Once begrudgingly up, I go through the ritual of letting out and then feeding the dogs, building a fire, letting out the chickens and making myself a tea.
Now sitting here quietly with the hubbub subdued and a bright sunny day forming outside, I realize this early morning rising is a perfect gift for Mother’s Day.