Thoughts from an Early Morning

Early this spring a morning unfolded around me that took me to a different time and place. A bit of a hopeless romantic, the mystical and magical have always fascinated me. But it wasn't solely the storybook atmosphere that rolled in with the deep fog hovering patiently over our farm, but a faint reminder of the home I grew up in and memories of summers spent on the coast of Maine. True, I would not have been surprised had a leprechaun popped his mischievous little head out from behind the hazy pink redbud tree in our pasture, or found a fairy flitting from one delicate wild flower to the next. But as I stood in the arena leaning precariously against the pitchfork, only half way done with my work, gazing over the freshly green pasture blurred by the drifting fog I seem to be ushered half way across the country to a rocky coast in Maine, where that same fog covered the incoming tide, while waves lapped invitingly at my feet. The crisp breeze sliding over the landscape guiding the stubborn fog across the water ran its long cool fingers through my hair that morning while I stood in the arena, reinforcing my departure from a farm in the Midwest into the recesses of my memory. The salty aroma of the ocean invaded my nose while I listened to the cry of seagulls searching for a tasty morsel. A fog horn from a nearby lighthouse bellowed its cautionary call. I was lost for the moment, remembering a simpler time, a childhood where treasures were found after a roaring storm had finally receded, and summertime was spent with family. A childhood replaced by worries of adulthood; job security, finance, and finishing the lengthy to do list. But for a brief moment as I watched the fog play across the hilly pasture, I was a child again, stepping gingerly across the barnacle strewn tide pools searching for treasure as a cool breeze beat at my open sweatshirt and pushed the morning fog out of sight while the lobster boats floated out into the newly brilliant morning. 

A nudge from a soft nuzzle brings me home again and I stare into warm brown eyes wondering where I've been. "I'm here, boy" I reassure my loving horse. He seems to get the message but follows closely behind as I finish my chores.