It’s still, save the warbling of the house finch and the crisp chirp of two chickadees, one in the white pine, the other answering from across the street. The sun glints like rhinestones through the sprinkler spray. I tuck my feet beneath me, brush an ant from the tabletop and open the Bible.
I read verses better at this early hour, more slowly, because I’m sleepy. And the boys stay tucked in their beds a bit later during the summer, letting me linger into a longer, slower rhythm. Later, as the sun slides above the picket fence, a boy or two might join me for breakfast.
It takes a few trips back and forth from the kitchen to the back patio: a second cup of coffee, toasted cinnamon raisin English muffins or bowls of Life, sliced strawberries in glass-footed bowls, white grape juice, silverware and napkins. But it’s worth the extra effort.
The neighborhood yawns and stretches. Dogs bark, one joining another, an anthem to suburbia. Breakfast done, the boys now on to Mario Brothers and the Wii, I stack empty plates and glasses on top of the Bible, slide open the screen door and step into the cool house.
What’s your favorite way to spend a slow summer morning?