Morning Musings... ( Archived) (6)

This is dedicated to Bajunblue. If I could write like Bajunblue, I wouldn't be writing like the Kansan...


It is early morning and, once again, I am on the front porch anticipating the sunrise. In a few minutes it will actually be light enough to see if I can dig out the splinter I got from stepping out without my slippers. I like standing on the porch in the early morning and checking my e-mail on my laptop. I tell my wife that it is because it is so peaceful and serene, but she says that it is because I have the blood of Scotsmen in my veins and the front porch is the only place where I can receive free wi-fi.

The sun is just beginning to shine through the trees and for a moment I thought we’d had a heavy dew, the way it sparkled like the jewels of a thousand crowns… But then I realized instead, that I must have splattered my glasses with water while filling the coffee pot in the dark. No matter, it is still pretty in its own way.

I hear the neighbor’s rooster, down the hill, and think to myself that I really need to start building a chicken coop for my wife. Then I realize that what I should be thinking instead is that I should build a chicken coop so that my wife can have a place to keep and raise chickens! It also occurs to me that the neighbor’s rooster must either be four hundred years old or queer. Never have I heard such a high-pitched, sickly screech from a bird who dares to claim rooster status. When I get around to building the coop, it will be on the condition that the rooster, if rooster there be, at least sound like he has a pair.

The neighbors from up the ridge will be on their ways to work and school shortly, and it strikes me that maybe I should slip inside and put on some britches before they start driving by and waving. This will protect what little modesty I have left, and also give me an excuse to re-fill my coffee cup.

My lovely wife will be getting up in a few minutes to let the dogs out for the second time, and once again I will apologize for not having kept them corralled and muzzled in the living room so that they would not wake her with their boisterous, bed-rollicking ways. She will kiss me and we will embrace and I will realize, yet again, that this is the best part of the morning. And, as I turn to follow her inside and stub my toe on the door jamb, I will grumble and swear and give silent thanks that she loves me despite my ineptitude. I love my life – Good morning, East Tennessee!

Yep, that'd be me!