fake forsythia

Forsythia foretold …

Today I love loud mornings when the air is full of sounds and songs and sweet cold oxygen. I love the rowdy robin’s raucous ruckus and the clever cardinal’s clear clarion calls. I love the mourning dove’s low, quiet sounds of distant hope. I love the beeping of the microwave when first breakfast is ready, the gurgling of the coffee maker as it mixes up the fuel for my brain, the chiming of the toaster as it tells me that it has toasted my bread for as long as it pleases and will go no farther unless I push its button one more time. I love the sounds of plates and bowls and knives and cutlery, and the clinging tear of the fridge door opening and closing as all the things we need for sustenance are gathered to the table. I love the quiet times that fit between the bits of conversation as neatly as if they were built for those spaces, punctuated with easy smiles. I love the music that plays in my head and sometimes spills over and out of my mouth. I love the music that is breakfast time, and the way it plays each day. I love that that song is never the same, yet is always recognizable.

Today I love that it is once again adventure Wednesday and I am once again out on the road and settled into my office space at my new favorite café in my regular seat in the corner by the electrical receptacle that keeps me powered up when my battery flags. I love that there is a bouquet of fake forsythia outside the café door, a promise of life soon to bloom I love that I walked and curled free weights for fifty minutes this morning before hitting the road. I love that even though I was up before five-thirty I am just on my third cup of coffee for the day because I’ve been busy with all the sights and sounds and activities. I love that my phone is still confused about where I walk but not about the number of steps I take. I love that according to it I managed to get a couple of blocks away from the rec centre even though I never left its confines even once. I love that my legs tell me more about how far I walked and my arms talk to me about how many curls I did and my core tells me all I was working hard with those weights held out in front of me when I wasn’t curling them. I love that my back is nagging me, but not refusing to do anything.

Today I love omelettes on toast for second breakfast. I love that the countryside was frosted and bejewelled as we drove through it. I love that I get to write about things that please me every day because, what a great way to start a day.

Today I love coffee on a frosted and jewelled morning in the café with the fake forsythia out front.