My beautiful, smart, capable, incredibly challenging but always wonderful Doberman puppy gets up around 6:15 every morning. It is our routine. She gets up and she nudges my hand with her nose. And so out of bed I go, grabbing my shorts and sneaks and perhaps a sweater in case it is cold and we go out for a walk in the beautiful orange grove below our house.
Since we brought her home, this past March, when she was just this tiny ball of Doberman sweetness, our early morning walks have been quite wonderful. And quite doable as the morning sun was already high up in the sky, with the days getting longer and the weather warming and the grove was filled with light even early in the morning.
But now the smooth, sweet heat of summer is transitioning into the coolness of fall. The days are getting shorter and the air is crisp in the morning grove and when I wake up at 6:15 the last lingerings of night are still in the sky. A hush of grays that will soon be touched by morning light.
And I wonder, as we make our way down the driveway and into the grove, whether it is safe. Will a coyote or mountain lion sneak down from the hillside above my house and corner us against an orange tree. Irrational thoughts but they skip across my brain as we walk along the dirt roads.
Still we walk as the sun starts to peak above the Topa Topa Mountains. My Doberman and I. Surrounded by a loveliness that I probably would not have seen otherwise. The just born peek of the morning sun as it brighten up the sky. The tiny moments of light that sneak above the mountainside in reds and orange and yellow, too. We walk together. Waking up our legs and our hearts to the wonder of this early morning moment. Waking up our bodies. Waking up our spirits as the morning awakens the day.
Mother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover.