Morning

The hours of 6:00am to 9:00am are the best of my whole day here at Black Pig Farms. I've heard reports that Brett's alarm blasts into the silence at 5:30 each morning but I never hear it. Supposedly he showers and meditates or reads for a little while, but I only come-to around 6:30 when he wakes me up gingerly with sweet nothings or by his favorite method, which is to shriek a continuous "Lulululululululoo!" in a high-pitched voice from whatever room he happens to be in when he decides he's ready for me to get up. Mostly he does this from the kitchen, so I often wake up to the smell of coffee and sound of his birdcall. Overtime, the call and response of "Lulululoo!" has become how we find each other when we get separated or he's so deep into the garage that I can't find him.

At about 7:00 the low morning sunbeams pour through the kitchen window and illuminate tumbleweeds of dog hair that are only visible when light shines directly on them. I'll come back later with a vacuum and I can't find them. The sunbeams are the best part of the morning. They drift through the kitchen and back outside again where they light up the yard in golden patches. It stays bright and sparkly until the sun gets too high around 10:00. It's the Morning Light Show and I'll make Brett stop and look at it even though I've already instructed him to prepare my breakfast.

The pups move from the sofa to our bed and then back to the sofa. Pippa loiters in the kitchen while Brett makes his lunch because sometimes he'll fling some ham or a slice of cheese. Grace cannot be roused in the mornings until she is rested and ready. This takes a different amount of time each day. She prefers to be cuddled immediately upon waking up and then will only accept pets begrudgingly for the rest of the day. Both pups get a floor cuddle with Brett after he has eaten and gotten dressed and fed me my breakfast.

During this time I am in a state of groggy happiness and will cozy up in a blanket with a warm mug of coffee and listen to Brett talk and yap about whatever is on his mind. He's the most talkative in the mornings before The Man has beat the spirit out of him. This morning he discussed the different personas of comedians compared to their normal dispositions. Last week he taught me about exploding stars. Every morning is a new adventure. By 8:00 the Brett-tornado has circled through the house and out the front door, leaving behind a trail of dishes and shirts, and one very putout dog. Grace sulks when he leaves. Pippa looks at me expectantly, as I'm up next for entertainment.

Instead, I let both of them down and take my coffee to my 'morning chair' by the window where I enjoy the light show and say my prayers and muse about the day. Sometimes I get to having discussions with myself, out loud. I play it off like I'm talking to the dogs but usually they've wandered off and gotten back into our bed. By 9:00 they're ready to go outside to announce their arrival to the neighborhood and I reluctantly get to work on my emails.

I wish the whole day had the same lazy pace that mornings do.