It is my ritual.
Slip out of bed, walk softly to the kitchen door, open it for the morning’s fresh air. At the sink, fill my Pyrex coffee pot up to the stainless band that holds the handle on, set it on the stove and light the burner. While I wait for the water to get hot, I sweep the kitchen floor then walk back into the bedroom and splash water on my face. A little moisturizer and back into the kitchen to wait for the water to get hot and stare out the kitchen window.
What’s out there? I grab the binoculars and look into the pastures to see what I could see. That is how I first saw the Bald Eagle. It’s how I noticed Preacher was holding his leg funny. It’s how I saw someone had run over one of the jackrabbits.
What the heck? Why does anyone have to drive so fast on a ranch road that they can’t stop in time to miss a jackrabbit?
Well, come on , Punkin. Let’s go move him off the dirt road. Gently setting him out in the pasture so nature can takes it’s course…we then walk back to the kitchen. Water is boiling…I reach for a tea bag.
I have the luxury of someone else feeding the horses so after some moments of reflection…(dad gum reckless drivers)…
I walk to the barn to saddle the first horse.
Morning rituals keep me grounded and grateful. Jack might be in hare heaven but on this new morning, scrubbed clean by a nice hard rain…it’s a good day to be alive. Rest in peace, Jack.