Musing the Morning Away

In summer, the song sings itself.
William Carlos Williams

Saturday morning. Alone at the lake. I'm sitting on the porch facing the water. In the morning, we have the shade and despite the heat that may lurk out there, I am cool. Still in my pajamas, I survey the theater before me. A cicada whines. A lone lawnmower completes its circuit. Boats, that have been out for hours trying to find the gentle waters before the influx of many pleasure seekers, intermittently parade by the cabin. I've brought my bird out to sit beside me in his cage. Birdie likes it out here, productively tweeting with those who harbor in the nearby branches.

In a few hours, my husband will arrive. Then a couple of friends. My boys are dispersed throughout the country. The youngest in New Orleans for a National Youth Gathering, the middle one at work with the baby deer in south Texas, the oldest in Colorado with his fiance's family. Soon I will move from my perch to the dock. To my hammock, to get in the last few moments of alone time I seem to crave, perhaps too much.

The beauty of this morning is not lost on me. The sky is clear, not a cloud in sight. The waves of the boats are lapping against the break wall and even though the roar of a passing boat dares to disturb my peace, I excuse the noise that will pass with the moving motor.

I love the month of July. As a kid, it meant vacation and a complete month where no school bells interfered with the day. Now, a complete month where I disregard the norm of the year and make new rules for how my time is spent. Often not very productively, but that assessment may live in the mind of the one creating their own rules of productivity. I try not to let it linger in mine.

A Saturday in July - summer at its best. A deep breath. I set aside the things happening in my personal world, and the country and world at large, that upset me. For the day.

I've added some chairs to the porch. Come sit for a spell. Enjoy the view.