Saturday mornings are sacred. You’re in the weekend – but most of it spreads languidly, invitingly before you. You wake up when you want. If I’m up early (99.9% of the time), there’s always a good (as I see it) reason. Coffee, glorious coffee. Preferably in my attitude adjustment mug. From May to November, I’ll get up at 7am to hit up the local farmers markets (Yorktown, Williamsburg) and then squeeze in a garage sale…oh, I love browsing through people’s stuff. It’s just that this area doesn’t have many ballin’ garage sales. Catching Car Talk and Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me (back-to-back starting at 10am on our local station) is one of W and my favorite things to do. When training for a race, those long pre-noon miles feel pretty darn sweet.
This morning I was up at 5:45 am because 1) it snowed last night, 2)WV needed a breast milk top-off, and 3) a parliament of owls were hooting outside my window. It was too magical to fall back to sleep. The snow began and intensified as I was on a walk with WV to the end of my favorite road yesterday. Snow-infused view of the York, white-out conditions obliterating the far Yorktown bank, it looked like the sea. W actually came looking for us because of our absence in blizzard-y conditions, thank goodness! WV was safely cush and cocooned in blankets and gurgling but my fingers were getting cold (still a half mile from home) guiding the stroller (garage sale find!) down icy Guinea roads!
1)WV had a squash incident late in the evening which
necessitated a postprandial bath and my mamma instincts
said not to take a walk in “it” again by the time we
were done at 10pm – I watched W and the girls go out
and imagined what the house looked like from the snow –
our all-year round house lights blinking angelically
gingerbread. Ahh! I vowed to witness it before the
snowplow/sand truck dutifully ruined it all.
2) After WV was milkdrunk and nestled peacefully, the
extra reflective glow of snow out the window, I just felt
UP! I left the Walters to their zz’z.
3) I never, ever miss a chance to try to spy an owl.
They are creatures of endless allure. One night while I was pregnant, an owl, brief, silent fluff, buzzed me on an evening walk and it felt like a Harry Potter movie, no joke. Now I’m chasing that feeling. I tend to look at the crooks of branches just where they join trunks – for some reason (childhood cartoons?) that’s where I think they will be. No luck, yet, but hearing their call-and-response “who-who-whoooooo” is enough to keep that dream alive. It was the perfect auditory backdrop to watching the sun rise through the trees on the banks of the York.
A lovely Saturday to you!!!