Mornings

Before the sun rises, we emerge from bed. Strange how cold it is in August, cardigans are donned, breath can be seen. The generator springs to life with the nimble touch of Husband's hands, and our day begins.

Two young boys grumble about the chill, tightly wrapping themselves in their blankets. Even though they are excited about their first day of school, the early rise and the nippy air keeps them complaining. Yet breakfast is served, something to warm their bellies, and a flurry of activity commences. A change of clothes, shoes yanked on, and morning hygiene cared for. The two minute drive ends at the top of our steep driveway, and we sit in the dark for the yellow bus whose flashing lights penetrate the fog.

Back down in the holler, the fog sinks, dense dew covers everything. Husband starts a fire so that I may heat water.

 As I wait, I crank the wind up radio to enjoy the local college music. Husband moves on to cutting wood to stack away for the winter.

Finally the hour long laundry marathon begins. With a tub, a rock, laundry bar soap and my hands.

Mornings are exhausting and fulfilling. Now lunch awaits my attention.