“Monday, Monday, so good to me; Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be.” Now there's an earworm you can use all day; thank you Mama Cass and company – you've said it all. It is very early Monday morning here at Grouse Hollow. I am tapping this out in the screen house. It is cool enough that I am wearing a vest and sweatshirt – 53 degrees!
There is something about the first light of day, any time of year, that is too often taken for granted. This morning, I woke early as I usually do, prompted by my chronologically challenged waterworks. Some mornings I crawl back into the sack for another hour of shut-eye, but today I made coffee and went out to turn off the dog alarm so maybe my better-half could snooze a bit before hitting the deck running as she usually does. The sky was nearly clear of clouds and just turning light around the edges. The three-quarter moon was fading high in the south western sky in the spot where I often bid Orion good morning come fall. Sikora's rooster, Noodles hadn't started crowing - yet (I dubbed him Noodles because some mornings that's what I hope he ends up surrounded by, soon); still there were crows raising a ruckus up on the ridge, no doubt hunting for carrion or harassing some coyote or hawk. Once freed from the kennel, Scout spun around me for her morning ear rub and then bounded down the driveway toward her morning privy spot. I took my time enjoying the light. The photographer in me appreciates this time and sunset as the best times of the day for taking pictures. The are few shadows and colors are truest now before the sun warms them up and hides the nearly hidden spots with glare. I could hear mourning doves cooing and all kinds of song birds starting to gather steam for another day of making a living. My favorites, the wrens, are chirping and trilling around the house. We have four wren families right now. There are humming birds fighting over the feeder. They'd save a lot of energy if they would quit dog fighting over the sugar water Ellen puts out every couple of days. Down the valley I can make out what must be a barge powering against the high water on its way north. An occasional car goes by, neighbors on the way to start getting equipment ready for hay or other farm chores or on their way to work.
Speaking of farm equipment and chores and work, in our coulee this last week, there was a crew of half a dozen people planting tobacco for our neighbor John Leisso. The four person/row planter was being pulled by a large tractor with umbrellas over the driver and the crew. The planters were seated low to the ground with boxes of tobacco plants ready for loading into the bin that drills them and waters them just the right distance apart. Another helper was walking behind, I assume to replace plants in missed spots or make sure plants were in the ground correctly. While tobacco planting was common enough in our our part of the country a couple decades ago, it's not something you see very often around here at least.
Anyway, I am reminded of early mornings when I was a kid, riding up the ridge road on the Rosie Seat (so named for my aunt) bolted on the fender of the Farmall C with my Grandpa Koelker to get the hay mowed or raked or get the old International Harvester hay bailer serviced with new twine and grease.
My newlywed niece, Krystle and her husband Dustin, are on a honeymoon trip out west this week. That makes me think of our honeymoon out west. We camped. I remember waking up one cold, cold morning in Keystone, South Dakota near Mt. Rushmore and Custer State Park. We didn't have a camp stove and were trying to make coffee on our charcoal grill, not a good plan. Some kind people from Pennsylvania offered us a cup. On that trip we woke up one morning in a campground on the east face of the Big Horns in Wyoming. Cold, very cold again. I remember cold water shaving in the nearby creek. On the way home we camped at Wall, South Dakota and woke with our tent in a puddle just waiting to leak through our water proof pup tent. It was still raining in sheets when we packed up and went to the hot shower building. Our tent got moldy in the trunk on the way home. Since that trip, no because of that trip, my camping motto has been, “Roughing it is a Holiday Inn without a lounge.”
Anyway, I could write about when I was a teenager, my mom used to call into my bedroom to “get up!” She would always add, “People die in bed you know!” Maybe that's another reason I get up early most days. I could go on about mornings on the river or at Jag Lake, or in Canada or Mexico or Colorado, but Noodles is on a roll across the coulee and I need to go in to warm up and get another hot cup of coffee .
Until next time, get out – on Father's Day morning, Ellen fixed some Woodhouse pork sausage with eggs over easy for breakfast. Mid-morning, brother-in-law Chuck called and invited us to join him and Barb at the Spring Lake Tavern for lunch. Chuck and the girls had burgers and I had a fantastic prime rib sandwich. We topped off the trip with a stop at Cabela's. The place was crazy busy; we figured every father within a hundred miles must have got a gift card. We ran into my brother Del and his wife Sandy - he got a gift card for Father's Day. I talked to a guy from Avoca, WI who said he had just come back from fishing near Lehr, North Dakota. He had bought his license from my old friend Don Schnering, the mayor of Lehr. Anyway, we didn't buy anything because the lines were so long at the check out, but it was still fun to shop in one of my favorite big boy toy stores. In the evening, El and I had a cocktail on the porch. Our mountain kids weren't here, but they called in the evening. We had popcorn and a movie to top off the night. Enjoy.
