There’s a cool bite to the morning air. An easy pace allows me to observe the world around me. The hills walked the day before are climbed this morning (though periodic pauses are taken to digitally record the highlights of this outing for those unfortunate to miss it).
Red wildflower petals form intricate filigree bursting from cylindrical stalks. The beauty is short lived. At their peak yesterday, they are past their prime today.
Light penetrates the leafy canopy overhead reflecting off moisture laden air. Shafts of illumination materialize around me like a cathedral made of crystal. Their ethereal nature is manifested only by my unhindered passage.
A beat up pickup parked on the side of the road looms closer with every stride. The jagged roar of a chainsaw can be heard in the distance. A welcoming smile is offered to the woman dressed in overalls perched on the tailgate. Her husband is cutting wood a few paces away, no doubt in preparation for winter. Their weathered faces wear a look of suspicious reservation as my “Good morning” is answered with wordless nods. Eyes burrowing into my back can almost be felt as the downhill pace is increased.
The dog that followed me back to the cabin yesterday decides not to accompany me when the turn around is reached. She’s skittish by nature. Her trust was not easily won and on this day is nonexistent. She seems a perfect match for the couple parked just up the road.
There’s a lumber mill located just off the road a few hundred feet. The metallic clang of the saw blade slashes the morning air as each cut is made. The pungent aroma of fresh cut cedar is carried on the gentle breeze. Though my view is obstructed by the trees I can just make out the outline of a huge pile of sawdust that likely took years to accumulate.
On the return trip a bank of bushes is encountered bearing brilliant purple berries. The clumps of yellow flowers which line the road have a habit of making me sneeze. My nose is running better than my legs.
I return to the cabin and shower. Two pieces of grilled toast lightly drizzled with honey, a banana, and a freshly brewed cup of tea constitute breakfast. A seat is taken in the sunroom overlooking the lake there the peacefulness of my surroundings and my inner state can be enjoyed. I do not dine alone.
Pamela still sleeps in the next room. There’s time in these quiet moments to contemplate my good fortune to know her love for the past 28 years. She completes my life in ways too numerous to name. Life without her is unimaginable. Sharing a few days exclusively with her is a privilege not taken for granted.
This morning’s run leaves me with only two regrets. The distance and duration are both too short. I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s dawn.
That cannot be a bad thing.
6 comments:
Craig - Your post like so many I have read recently shows that human kind have not lost our sense of the change of season.
Last weekend on my run with Steve we both seemed incredibly aware of the changes and the beauty of our surroundings. We were filled with a sense of change. I'm not sure if we as runners are more in-tune with this due to the time we spend outdoors or if we had stumbled out into nature for the first time that our innate senses would take charge and give us those warning signs to prepare for winter. None the less it's just an observation.
Sounds like some really good time spent with your wife there at the cabin. Enjoy!
These are beautiful surroundings, can't believe. I guess I am so bias, I think only OR has it:) That, and your last (before last) paragraph allows me to mention briefly here: our email exchange some time ago recently - I am ready...on my own will and wish...because of these two things:) Thanks, Rev. Camden. I had time to think, time to talk it, and time to make a decision. It's all good...
A beautiful morning run Craig. I love when the sun creates shafts of light through the trees - it always feels like a cathedral to me, better than any human could ever build.
And our spouses? We are blessed, aren't we? 28 years, 29 years, amazing to have shared them with another and to look forward to at least that many more.
And I thought NS was the only lovely and peaceful spot on the continent. Such a beautiful place Craig. Congratulations to the both of you on 28 years.
You have a way of catching the beauty of your surroundings in words that all us to share this too. The title of your entry, plus the contents have me humming an old song that I used to sing in my youth group 30 some years ago:
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
Jack -- That song was going through my mind as I was concluding this post. I hoped that someone would make the connection. But you did me one better by posting the lyrics. We used to sing it in my youth group too though I'd forgotten how many years ago that was.
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