I can easily say this today, on a Sunday.
More specifically the Sunday after I’ve had 8 days off of work.
Maybe tomorrow morning I won’t feel the same. Tomorrow. The dreaded Monday. More specifically, the first day back to work. The first day back to work after Spring Break. The first day back to work after Spring Break and Daylights Savings Time. The first day back to work where instead of driving 10 seconds to get to work, I must drive 10 miles.
But this Sunday morning was glorious, and I can easily say it was my favorite time of day.
Where I now live, in the mornings, the cows in the neighbor’s pasture lumber their way, softly mooing as they go, to a barbed wire fence to stare down this county road. J-Dub says they’re waiting for the neighbor’s feed truck, but I have yet to see it arrive.
Hoping for breakfast.
But their curiosity of me and my camera gets the better of them.
In the mornings, the birds sing softly. I gaze towards the telephone poles and the fence lines looking for them, but never find them.
As you can see, there aren’t many trees to perch in. They must be hiding in the grasses, raising their song of hope towards the heavens.
In the mornings, the grass is a little wet from the dew and the fresh breezes gently blow, refreshing me.
In the mornings, I set my coffee cup in the pasture so I can operate my camera. And the horse poses for his portrait.
In the mornings, the sun warms the blossoms of the fruit trees, giving hope of new life. And sweet apricots.
Mornings are filled with hope.
Hope of new beginnings.
Hope of fresh starts.
Hope of happy days to come.