It’s been a while since I’ve listened to a morning begin.
Woke from a frightening dream last night and never did get back to sleep. So when first light began to push the night away I stepped outside.
Surprisingly a cool mid-April breeze blows through our suburban southwest neighborhood. I forget how cold the mornings can feel in the dry desert air.
The mix of Grackle screeching, Inca Dove cooing, Finch twitter, Cactus Wren whistle, Sparrow cheeping, Hummingbird buzzing and chipping, and Towhee calls seemed oddly loud in the early morning silence.
Then a car drove past and the bird sounds were nearly inaudible in the wake of engine noise. Not thirty seconds later, the bird sounds took over the morning’s orchestrations and filled the chill air with their busy conversation.
I’ve wished I spoke bird on more than one occasion. Do they complain about the noisy neighbors or the fretful chick that kept them awake? Do they discus their busy day ahead, the long to-do list of twig gathering, bug capturing, water hunting, territory guarding? Do they need to nudge the spouse again and again, finally resorting to singing a bit off-key to get him or her out of the nest? Is there a honey-do list for one to the other that needs details added? Do the teen birds complain about breakfast being the same old bugs again? Who knows? It’s fun to imagine though.
Or is it really just a rose-colored glasses kind of morning for them every single day of the year, happy songs, cheerful melodies, worry-free existence? I somehow don’t think it’s that either.
The breeze picks up and with it the added tones of my windchime swirl about the air with the various bird sounds. As the light increases so does the bird chatter and real sightings of birds. A hummingbird angles in to the feeder hanging near my porch swing. After a quick sip it darts back into the nearby tree to watch for interlopers. A curve-billed Thrasher swoops in and lands in the rocks and begin its messy morning work of flinging rocks on my sidewalk and driveway in search of tasty bugs. Eat all you want, I say under my breath.
There’s a bird that looks and acts surprisingly like a Killdeer in the park across the street. Seems like an odd spot to see one. Not really a nest-friendly place for a ground nest builder. Hmm. I’ll have to research that one later today.
The sun glares out over the horizon, no golden orange, no clouds to shift the light to various shades and hues. Just the burst of sudden light, strong and almost loud in its brightness. The sky seems a whitish blue, cold, thin and stark. Not sure what that means for the day ahead. Not sure I want to know.
Not many more of these gentle Spring mornings are left. Soon the early hours will be warm and then turn hot quickly as the sun breaks its night moorings. Summer’s unrelenting onslaught of blasting, blazing, blaring heat will bake us all into submission, force us indoors most hours of the day. Escapes to the cool pine mountains will haunt our nights. High elevations with lower temperatures will inhabit our daydreams. Rain will be a distant wish, clouds a taunting temporary mirage.
Perhaps this is why I had a sleepless night. Perhaps I needed reminding how rare and precious these cool hours are. I’ve let mornings slip by the wayside since my January-long cough set me back. I’ve slept in too many mornings, too many days. Perhaps it’s time. Perhaps I need to wake early every day to dip my psyche in the pool of morning song and early light.
There are few better ways to begin a day than this.
The lack of sleep is catching up to me. Maybe, now that the sun is up, the morning started, the heat working its way into the air, I can catch an hour of sleep before I really have to start the day.
More than likely the pillow will lose that battle and I’ll slog through my day ahead, drowsy and fuzzy headed and ineffective. I really should get some shut eye while I can, and for the next hour, I can.
I’ll also get to bed earlier tonight. I can feel the need for another morning reverie on the horizon for tomorrow.