Mmmmm… beautiful morning we are having down here. Clad in boxers and a tank top, I brought my laptop out to the porch to get in some a.m. writing on the swing. So many little happenings to take in :Zach and Daisy, my cherished and rather spoiled Maltese kids, are playing and peeing in the palms; Aldin, the two year old across the street, just woke up and is crying his a.m. tune; Shadow, the doberman next door, is barking at Smokey… poor senile, nineteen year old, toothless, scraggly furred cat; the crickets are getting in their last few choruses before the new day begins; my precious Mama (or is it Papa?) morning dove looks down at me from the nest just a few feet away. Such pretty eyes on that one, kind and alert. I feel proud that the couple is at ease enough with me to build their home on mine.

It should be another week or so for the egg within is to hatch. I’ve had to battle a particularly nasty blue jay almost every day to stay clear of the fragile thing. Mean old bird. Me, Kate in shining armour, a modern day Joan of Arc. Now that’s a stretch. We do both have the short hair look in common though at the very least.

When I sit out here, it’s hard to believe that there is anything but a perfect world outside that white picket fence. All of the bad news and harsh realities blazing across the t.v. screen constantly don’t seem possible. Although I’ve been here since October, nearly eight months, it’s like a brand new feeling with each day. What a blessing.

Ah, there she is. The sun. She is just now crawling over the horizon to my left and the sky is brightening in her path. Not a cloud in sight. Mornings even smell different than any other time of day. I don’t know what it is exactly. Kind of like smelling snow- you know it’s there but to describe it, beyond words. With that thought I now glimpsed at the time on the corner of the screen. It’s nearly 6:30 already and time to move onto my day.

It’s just 12:00, the bewitching hour. Cinderella would be dashing down the stairs about now, losing that infamous slipper in the process. What kind of girl was she anyway to not go back for it? I mean I can understand being in a rush, but come on! Leaving behind such a cool accessory. There are women who nearly risk their lives at shoe stores trying to snatch up the “shoe of the moment”. A real bloodbath! Also, what was up with her feet anyway? No wonder she was always barefoot. With a size unique only to her, it must have been a real challenge trying to find a pair to fit.