Alone

I woke up this morning. Alone. Jack and Ed had slipped out of the house before dawn to go fish the Elkhorn Creek near Frankfort -- a bit of father/son bonding before Jack leaves for Germany. The sun was up higher than usual and still I considered rolling over and going back to sleep, like some teenager who stayed up too late.

Instead I headed out for my morning ritual of walking to the end of the drive, touching the red flag on the mailbox for good luck before turning around. It's only about a mile, but every morning I see something new. It might be geese flying overhead, a green snake slithering through the weeds, or a hawk gliding through the skies. I sometimes hear a donkey braying, or a cow mooing, a horse neighing, or a quail bob-whiting. Last week it was foggy and the sun was shinning through a million spider webs strung between tall dried grass. It looked more spooky than Hillcrest Avenue in October.

After my walk, I puttered. It's my favorite way to spend a morning. I watered the bourbon-barrel planters on the back porch and each of my dozen fruit trees. I changed our sheets. I made some mint tea and some hard boiled eggs. I weed whipped around the house and cottage. It was such a pleasant morning. It was quiet, and cool, and I was alone. But it was the good kind of being alone – alone, but not lonely. 

I know my boys will come bounding in later this afternoon, hopefully with a cooler full of smallmouth bass. I also know that I better quit puttering and head into town for some groceries as there is nothing worse than a hungry Jack with no food in the house. So, I'm off....