I awakened with a start this morning- "Oh No- did I remember to turn the crock pot off last night?" After running downstairs and out to the back porch to confirm I had turned off the chili, I was much too awake to crawl back in bed. We try to use the crock pot on the back porch in the summer to keep the heat out of the house- but sometimes out of sight is out of mind.
I went about the morning chores - the dogs giving me sleepy looks as it was 6:30 and they like to sleep in on weekends too. I made myself a cup of Earl Gray and savored one of Moms Cream Scones to break my fast. Sunday mornings are my favorite- our community remains quiet- no mowers, trimmers, radios. I am free to enjoy the sounds of the farm sans electronics and other people. I will often find my mom doing the same thing on her porch- quietly enjoying nature. Our inability to sleep in must be genetic.
Today the fog encompasses the landscape, muffling some sounds while accentuating the birdsong. I can barely make out the outline of my mom's house just a few 100 yards away.
This weekend I have been thinking a lot about my dad, who passed away 3 years ago this very weekend from a sudden heart attack. He would have been up on a morning like this- having a hot cup of tea or coffee. In fact, this morning he would have been camping. Dad would be the first one up, stoking a fire and preparing for breakfast. First I would hear him pumping vigorously to prime that old Coleman fuel stove, then the hiss of the flame followed by the plunk of the percolator- no instant camping coffee for my dad!
Then we would hear breakfast- he had this really cool toaster ( I still have it) for the stove top. We would have scrambled eggs, toast and sausages. I remember our devastation one such morning when we discovered the coons had out foxed my dad by pulling an entire loaf of bread out of the small hand hole in his camping supplies box. The toast was soooo good and never tastes like that at home! Plus- camping was the only time we were treated to WHITE bread because everyone knows whole wheat bread makes for crappy camping toast.
Karl and I both have cause to remember this weekend- both losing a parent that same year. We talk about them now with less sadness and now fondness and laughter as we share the stories. I find now it is comforting to see some of my dad in myself. Funny how as we age- it is OK to be more like our parents. Now I am nearing 40 (ugh), all those traits and beliefs I hated as a teenager and young adult now make sense and I embrace many of them.
All those years we scoffed at Mom's "hippie whole foods cooking" and Dad's "don't pay someone if you can do it yourself". I can now cook ( tho not as good as mom) and help Karl tackle most of the repairs and work around the farm.
On your Sunday Morning- I encourage you to take some time to quietly sit and think. It does not matter if you choose to worship in a building or in the great cathedral of nature, but I think it is imporant- even if you can't take the whole day to rest- grasp a few minutes to be thankful and remember.
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