Sunday Morning

Shortly after sunrise, I am awakened by Caboodle’s plaintive mewing outside my bedroom door. It is 5:31 a.m. Although I have attempted to explain the difference between weekend mornings and workday mornings to my three felines, they insist on treating the days uniformly. I greet this day with a groan and rise to feed the cats.

Since I am up and the morning is pleasantly cool, I decide to walk into Easthampton center and buy a cup of coffee. Later on this midsummer day, it will be too hot for such activity. I water my small garden before setting forth. The cucumber plant is thriving.

The cats peer out the window, wordlessly inquiring where I am going so early.

Along the Manhan Rail Trail I go, pausing here and there to admire ducks lazily swimming on the pond or the reflection of one of the mill buildings on the water. A blue wildflower catches my eye, as well.

It feels good to stretch my legs, to be up and out when much of the world is still sleeping. A gentle breeze offers a passing caress. Perhaps Caboodle knows best.

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