Raspberry coffee drips in the coffeemaker.
The quiet of the morning surrounds me.
My farmer man left early, thus the raspberry dripping. I sent him out the door with hazelnut and a splash of half and half in his insulated mug, given to us by the insurance company, their name scrawled in letters across the side.
Sliding the blind up as daylight begins to spill over, I’m greeted by deep violets and pastel pinks in a splash of watercolor splendor.
It rainshowered a short bit right before dawn and clouds to the east build an illusion of purple-y mountain range while the pink kisses the puffy peaks.
I’d love a picture, but my phone camera can’t even adequately begin to capture the colors and feel. I snap anyway.
Spring bird song lilts along the edges of this Saturday morning and yellow daffodil heads wave cheerily in the early morning air.
The sky keeps changing, adding colors and taking away, a live painting of movement and formation.I curl my toes in cushiony couch and fleecy blanket and keep watching as the sun begins her speedy-slow ascent to announce “New Day!”
The coffee aroma begins to beckon as the liquid gurgles its way into glass with drip and hiss.
I’ve lived approximately 14,853.18 days on this earth and I’m closing in on 8,030 of those days beneath Kansas sunrise.
We could call it another common day.
Coffee dripping.
Farm life demands.
Guest rooms requiring cleaning.
Clock tick-ticking.
Play practice to attend.
Dishwashers wanting loading.
Perhaps we would miss the point.
For pink-tipped clouds are deserving of a label far more remarkable than “common” and coffee in a cup, with fleecy blankets on a couch, are by no means a worldwide common at all.
May your Saturday burst into a beauty of a masterpiece!
