Arise in the dark and descend the stairs. Push the button on the dripper. Greet the black dog. Yes, I know.
Open the firebox, rake the coals. Empty the ash box. Take the ash box to the garden. Take oak in from the deck and stoke the firebox. Blow on the embers until flame licks the oak.
Now, let the black dog out. “Go on. Go potty!” Notice the sky lighten. Bring her back and scoop her one same as ever scoop. Crack the stove door. Run the faucet to fill the trivet. Fill your cup from the dripper. Douse with cream. Mmmm. Amen.
As the fire rises, read the forecast. Read cold. More cold. Bitter cold. Close that app. Close the damper. Dress for the walk. Layer up. Remember the binocs. Beckon the dog. Whistle.
Cut through the woods to get to the river. Know the river carries the news. Cross the road to the trail. Halfway to the river see two birds wing high over the field. Robins? Use the binocs. Catch them in flight. Yes. Two robins. Already.
Keep walking. Shady, come. Near the creek, at the curve, see the flock. In the maples and on the buckthorn. Spread out in the branches of a dozen trees. Use the binocs. Robins! A hundred robins! Like embers in the trees. On the berries. Singing the robin song, Cheerily, Cheer up, Cheerily. But turned down, the volume low, the famous voices not warmed up yet. Robins in tryouts to be robins. In with the robins, the waxwings. No one seems to hate the hated buckthorn. They’ll do. All this. And not even to the river yet. Shady. Let’s go!
