Actually, I'm Up By Dawn

I want to tell you about the birds. I want to tell you about the ritual of waking up now. Each morning before nine, I reach to every article of clothing that is dashed around the bed and walk, eyes half shut, into the kitchen. The task I manage then is coffee.

When the kettle finally cries I make circular pours from left to right, snag a mug, and walk along the invisible tightrope that leads me into the living room. It is there that I grab a coaster, set down the hot carafe, and sink into a tan, velvet couch that I swear I have seen on Roseanne.

It's then that I watch. The suet is almost gone after being out there for a few weeks. I have filled all three feeders twice. We have quite a few brightly colored woodpeckers that look drunk when they swing back and forth on the tree. We have a pair of blue jays that surprise me every time because the Jay's in the West seem bigger and more aggressive. The blue they carry is deep like storm clouds across flat fields. I see a cardinal every now and then.


It is the most magnificent sound to walk along a dirt road and hear nothing but the bird's song.