Tuesday, April 26, 2016

To The Porch An Hour Early

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Usually, it’s about 5:30 AM when I wake up and take out the Mighty Dachshund. This morning, she got up on her own and started whining at my wife. She, in turn, rang the special doorbell that’s my cue that the pooch has a full bladder. When I got downstairs, she was rolling on the carpet, happy to see me. Once outside, she peed less than normal, so I suspect that she just woke up thinking she’d like a trip outdoors.

I sat down in the swing, with her at my feet and we both listened to the night sounds, as she sniffed the slight breeze coming from the west. It was surprisingly quiet, even for the early hour. The main thing was that the loud-mouthed mockingbird that’s been singing 24/7 at the far end of the yard was silent. In fact, the only creatures that I heard were the 4:30 rooster, the next place to the north, and a couple crickets out in the lawn. Thank goodness the neighbor’s black cat didn’t show up like two nights ago, or it would have been the Mighty Dachshund’s voice tearing up the night, as she protected me from that dastardly menace.

Above, the stars shone brightly through an almost clear sky. The moon must still have been out, for the yard seemed too brightly lit for it to have been only the street light at work. To the west, I heard the low howling of wind on its way, as it rushed through the limbs of the tree covered hills. Far to the north, beyond the horizon, there was lightning, but it made only the tiniest flash of white on the clouds there. It was too far for the sound to travel the distance. I’d say it was across the river in the neighboring state.

Suddenly, the breeze picked up, but it was a backing wind, coming from the east, not the west from which the sound of wind grew still closer. I was reminded of the words of Jesus, where he compares the moving of the Holy Spirit to the wind: "The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." (John 3:8)


The door slowly opened and the soft, warm light of a pathetic modern light bulb fell on the pooch. My wife voiced concern that some woods creature might get us, so the Mighty Dachshund and I went in to appease her, she to snooze once again on the floor, and I to type these words before sleep dulled the memory. © 2016
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3 comments:

Vicki said...

I wish I had a porch. And a pooch. sigh.

Gorges Smythe said...

I feel for you, Vicki. If it wasn't so much trouble to move, I'd suggest that option.

Ralph Goff said...

If I can see the stars it is still night time here Gorges. Not really a morning person unless I have to be.