Early Morning Blues and Greys


by Ana Grarian

We have a lovely summer ritual in our house. Around 5 am the cat wakes my daughter. I hear her groggily yell – “GET DOWN!”, and then a 20 pound cat hit the floor – kathump!

This is my clue to get out of bed. If I don’t, the dog, who is by now sitting by the front door, starts a series of woofs, escalating in volume and frequency.


“It is time to feed the cat” she says, “and to take me for a walk,

so I can get back to the house and lick out the cat dish!”

Then we sit on the porch where I sip my coffee and she begs for my toast.

It is beautiful and peaceful. The birds chirp and the quiet is quietly disturbed by other dog walkers who pause to say “Good Morning”. Even a rainy morning can be comfy from my porch rocker.

You can set your watch by commuter traffic. 7am the quiet ends with the rumble of engines and the squeal of tires taking off from a steep slope at the stop sign.

Time to go inside and start my web surfing. The grime on the window sills shows what contaminates the air we would be breathing from the porch. Grit and grime make it even 3 floors up. Fortunately a well placed tree outside my window gives me a pastoral view even from my desk.

I like my city that sleeps. Unfettered hubbub is not good for the soul. Time spent in the company of the lowing sound of the mourning dove, the cacophonous blue jay, and the tweet of robins is restoring to the spirit.