A half-moon and the nightjar’s call

Merica

It was in my early 20s, if I recall correctly, that I began to give up being a night owl in favor of becoming a morning person. By my 30s, the transformation was complete — I rolled out of bed before first light, whether to prepare for the workday or to ride my motorcycle 200 miles for a hearty breakfast.

Developing a preference for mornings is one of the best things about my adult life.

Today, for example, long about 5am, I saw the waning Gibbous moon. I heard a Chuck-will’s-widow yammer on and on and on. I felt chill air (45°F) on my face and drank hot black coffee (Maxwell House) while hot still meant something.

Sleep-’til-nooners had none of that. Whatever they got later, they can keep.

I’ve come to view the chore of burning trash as both therapy and symbol. There’s just something cleansing about it, even purifying. It’s also an apt metaphor for changes I’ve passed through over the last eight or ten months.

Walking away from the burn barrel and in no particular hurry, I gave myself permission to be distracted. The first thing that caught my eye was the sight of three empty pallets.

They were meant to be a place to collect windfall I’ll gather between now and November, but there they sat — idle, rotting.

I picked them up and leaned them against a cedar to dry out. If I need them, I know right where they are.

Across the way, my stacks are in great shape. Random vines are starting to climb up and among them.

Yellow passionflower (Passiflora lutea).
Summer grape (Vitis aestivalis).

I’ll leave the overgrowth be unless it threatens to block the breezes that season next winter’s firewood.

Then my attention was drawn to oaks. I counted five or six different species, all within 50 feet of each other on the lower level.

Blackjack oak (Quercus marilandica).
Post oak (Quercus stellata).
Bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa).

Some trees I couldn’t identify with complete certainty.

The latest wave of spring grasses and wildflowers is a delight.

Stalked ruellia (Ruellia pedunculata), aka stalked wild petunia.
Orchard grass (Dactylis glomerata), aka cat grass.
Another ruellia (wild petunia).
Rose vervain (Glandularia canadensis).
Wild blue larkspur (Delphinium carolinianum).
Foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis), aka pale beardtongue.

I looked at my watch and smiled. I’d experienced all of this peace and beauty before 8:30am.

Though I haven’t written about it here, I’ve spent the last few days working in the shed. It’s been a matter of laying my hands on certain items I’d stored away, as well as re-ordering an already orderly space.

Today it was my crossbow and related gear. There’s not much to that, really, and what there is isn’t fancy, but I brought it to the front and got it ready to use next time I’m in the mood.

It’s a different kind of productivity. And it all begins before the sun comes up.

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable

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