Saturday, August 31, 2013

Third Morning Arise

I turned the oversized key to the right and it fell out, too far.
I slipped the key back into they keyhole, turned it, waited till I felt resistance, pulled, and the door eased open.

Greeting me was a gentle mist, laundry on the line, cows, sheep, and one of my new favourite smells – the highland wind. That's the smell I'll never want to forget.

It was fresh. It had bits of hay in it. It was cool.

This morning I found myself waking up at 5:56 AM. Bedtimes of 10:15 PM will do that to you. I gave myself time to ease awake, thought a bit, wiggled my toes, and got up.

My bedroom was a bit nippy and I had to convince myself that I would warm up if I got on my clothes for the day. I definitely wasn't in Ukraine any more. I had gone from even a sheet being too hot to sleep under to needing a thick blanket, quilt, and fuzzy blanket.

This is sweater weather, my favourite sort of weather. This is the weather that can stay grey all day, only breaking out into blue skies a few times if you're well behaved (or some other elaborate reason like that). Now, as I look out the window, on one side of the house I see solid looming grey that the sunrise tinted a lavender pink colour, just for me, I think. On my right, it's blue skies with just a few fluffy clouds to keep things real... I mean interesting.

Door opened, I slip-slaped my way to the kitchen in my well-loved Ukrainian slipper-sandles. Opening that door let Tot and May out. A bit of encouragement and they raced out the doors.

The kitchen was cabin-cozy warm from the oil stove that runs all the time. I made up some day-old porridge by lifting up one of the covers on the two hot circles on the stove. The porridge was hot before I could go to the kitchen, grab a mug, and come back. It was the sort of porridge that takes over 30 minutes to make – the real kind. Scot oats. A fresh peach was grabbed from the bowl of fruit and I sliced it up thin. A mug of hot tea was a good accompaniment.

I'm ready for today.

My time here was been worth being grateful for.
I'm grateful I get to have time to explore the highlands. I'm grateful for time to spend wandering around dirt roads, being surrounded by heather, and getting drenched in forests that'll either make you believe in fairies or God.

Update: These are the last words I managed to write at the farm. After that, my words sort of ran dry.

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