The Quiet of The Day

Morning is the quiet time of the day for me. Soft harp music plays on the stereo, while the wood pops and crackles in the wood stove. Birds with tiny wire like feet, hop about outside my window at the feeders, gracing this moment with a song or two. There is a hard to describe sacredness to this time of day. A certain kind of peace has filled every inch of the house as if it has been sprinkled with a kind of diamond dust of loveliness throughout. I can feel an ethereal easiness as I move about doing this task and that. Perhaps its the music, perhaps its love made tangible in some form or another that is not fully understood. A part of me just wants to sit by the window in the rocker, soaking it all in, but that is a luxury for another time. I have work to do, chores to do, laundry to hang, chickens to tend to, Christmas decorations waiting impatiently in boxes to put placed about the house, transforming it from Autumn to Winter. There are tiny dolls to be finished and bigger ones to be started, Christmas is on the way after all. My shopping was completed yesterday, its a good feeling. A chance of snow next week and I am hoping it does come our way. Snow is a blanket of purity, covering the earth with whiteness, that makes us all stop and look deeply, if only for a second before we start to shovel it into great heaps that make children smile.

This is my favorite time of the day.