mornings

Franklin the dog and I are walking in the dark most mornings. The morning air is brisker than it was even a few weeks ago -- I think it was 56 degrees (F) this morning.

In the evening, the sounds of summer are starting to fade, with bugs that make their nighttime songs moving on as the seasons make their transition.

But for the two of us, it is the silence of the morning that we share as we make our morning loop around the townlet.

My garden is a mess, but I've had little time to deal with it, and on my one day to do so -- last Saturday -- it rained. A little cooler temp and I will not only weed and cut back, but do some major thinning. And move the redbud sappling by my garage entrance that really needs to go somewhere else.

There are extravagent periods in our lives, when good fortune and health and weather combine to make us feel as if we have stepped out of time. And there are times of loss, and work, and pushing on. This feels like one of those times, with partner in NYC and work becoming increasingly busy. Not sadness, just adjustments of pace and rhythm.

Franklin the dog and I do not talk about this -- we just walk and he cheers me up. A vet told me that on his next birthday in a few months, he becomes a mature (senior) dog. As senior as me at least. He held his puppiness for a long time, the result of terrier genes, I guess, and a playfulness and energy that is still evident.

We walk in the grace of the morning quiet.