Morning chores...

I love my morning routine. The dogs wake up early, wanting to go outside. This time of year I pull on fleece pants, shirt and jacket, stuff my feet into my beloved warm warm boots and head out. The fall air is cold and crisp on my sleep warmed skin and wakes me up like a slap. The dogs love the chilly weather and romp across the frosty grass smelling things I never will. I scan the yard and surrounding meadow, taking in the weather and the sky and the scenery. Often now I hear Canada geese on the pond, their voices sharp and haunting. First I go to the garage and grab a water bucket and my old, battered grain scoop. The scoop I fill with black oil sunflower seeds and scratch grains. I fill the bucket with water from the hose unless it is frozen, (soon it will be frozen for the rest of the season.) On frozen mornings I take the bucket back inside to the kitchen sink and fill it with slightly warm water. I think the animals appreciate the warmth!

Most mornings the rabbit leaps to meet me near the chicken coop, where she waits for a handful of seeds and corn. I knock the ice out of the water bowl by the coop and refill it. I open the pop door for the chickens and they come out, one by one. Some peer out, blinking at the early light, others rocket right past me, hopping and flapping with obvious enthusiasm to greet the day. I toss a handful of chicken seeds out around their yard, check to make sure they have food and water inside the coop, and head out across the yard. The dogs tag along with me, leaping and playing. I sprinkle more seeds in various spots, the majority of them on the north side of the house under the pines. The chickens like to hang there, scratching amid the fallen pine cones. I fill another water bowl there.

Next I fill the bird feeders and check to make sure the suet cages are full. The air around me whirs with the sound of wings as the wild birds zoom in for breakfast.

The dogs run for the house and I follow behind, pausing to grab an armload of wood. I open the draft on the wood stove and if I am lucky embers from the previous days fire spring to life with a red pulse. Wisps of fragrant smoke curl up towards me as I add logs to the coals, and blow on them to get flames dancing. The dogs wait in the kitchen for they know that when the stove is going they all get a cookie from the old dough bowl on top of the refrigerator. Sometimes they get two.

A flick of a switch fills the kitchen with the scent of coffee brewing. A warm shower awaits and then the day unfolds from there. But it is all grounded in the first blast of morning, for which I am so grateful.