There is only one thing that might make this morning more beautiful.
The smaller songbirds start early, usually around 5:00 they begin to chirp and chatter. It is the crows that finally get me up. When I was a boy crows were wilderness animals, maybe flocking around farms, now they are everywhere in the city and I like that. One crow was even mistaken for an uncle and I took no offense.
I wrote about crows in past, by the way. I have one of those so-called indelible memories of crows from my very early childhood. I recall the day being cold, cloudy, and still. Circling high above a distant smokestack several dozen crows circled. The air also had an almost acidic order, like coal smoke, that I associated with the black crows, distant smokestack and that cold morning. It was rare enough to be mentioned by an adult and remembered by me.
Today is a different sort of day, full of sunshine and hope even as it lacks it. Sunshine in particular I have come to miss. I appreciate the beauty of grey shades and stormy weather more when I have contrast.
Fresh dark coffee, a cinnamon roll (sometimes without raisins), and softly scrambled eggs and cheese spiced with a few drops of Tabasco on a toasted English muffin. A grown up start. Breakfast felt even better than it tasted.
Some things don’t change though. Outside bright glints of sunlight sparkle on the lake. Everything flashes brightly in the sunshine. The trees and lawns, too, take on a special vividness in this golden light; deeply saturated greens, moist damp green. Color and light you can smell in the fresh air.
A morning like this should not feel incomplete. Should it? Something is missing.