Foggy Morning

6am on a foggy summer morning in Centerburg, Ohio.

I never realized before this morning that Poppy, our little red Boston Terrier, could tell time, but she can. On weekdays, I get up at 3:45 am so I have time for coffee and writing before work. Sometimes that means the dogs expect me to get up that early on the weekend as well. Today was one of those mornings. By 4 am Poppy was sitting on my pillow, her head resting on my face willing me to wake up. She is very willful and succeeded. I, however, was unwilling to participate and told her "I'm not getting out of bed before six o'clock." Poppy responded with a heavy sigh and crawled down by my feet to go back to sleep.

She woke me again at exactly six am. Not 5:59; not 6:01. Six am on the dot. Same move as before, climbing on the pillow and resting her head on my face, breathing me awake. 'You promised,' she seemed to claim. Her brother, Rooster the one-eyed Boston, snoozed nearby, unconcerned that the morning was flying by. Well, a promise is a promise so we got up and went outside and walked into a wonderful foggy sunrise.

People tend to think heavy fog muffles sound, but I can tell you that it does the opposite. It amplifies the sound, makes it less directional because you cannot orient it to certain landmarks or features. The birds sounded as if they had surrounded us, circling just out of sight in the heavy fog. They symphony they produced was glorious. First, there were no cars or trucks on the road, so no distracting ambient sounds. A rooster (not my dog) crowed in the background.

Author's Note: Rooster got his name because he can crow and does often. Friends have described his vocalizations as everything from someone murdering an animal to 'what the hell was that?' He can also bounce which is another story altogether.

Above the rooster's background rhythm, the birds overlaid chirps, tweets, trills, caws, and sliding whistles as if they were performing together, consciously. It was not discordant, but rather harmonious and wonderful. It is no wonder early humans felt a desire to make music of their own when they were surrounded by so many glorious examples of what could be.

Yesterday morning, on my drive to work, I saw, in rapid succession, an American Goldfinch and a then a small flock of wild turkeys. Both were amazing in their own ways. The goldfinch was so bright it was like a burst of sunlight, or perhaps even a tiny sun of its own as if fluttered among the branches of the tree where I saw it. In the field beyond the tree, several turkeys were foraging among the growing soybean plants looking for their breakfast. Those quick glimpses fixed my mind on beauty.

We cannot abide cruelty. Find something generous to do for someone you do not know. If you can, donate blood. It is the perfect charitable act because you can make no judgement about who gets your blood, so your own hidden bias cannot impact who is helped.

To read past blogs or learn about my novels, visit www.jeffersonblackburnsmith.com.

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