I was folding laundry when I heard the front door open and close. My husband was already up–he likes to write early in the morning–so I figured that must be him taking the dog out for her morning walk. Then I heard the scrambling of nails on tile, the pressing of paws on the the living room door, the familiar whine of excitement. Those are post-walk sounds of a Beagle getting her wag on in anticipation of breakfast. How a dog can get so excited about sensitive formula dry dog kibble is beyond me, but she musters that excitement each and every morning.
By the time I was downstairs, my husband had already made a pot of tea and we fell into our morning routine.
“How was your walk?”
“Beautiful. Here, I’ll show you.”
He rarely takes pictures, but there on his phone were close to a dozen and they were gorgeous. Rainbows, thick layers of clouds, blue sky, reflections in the water, lush fields, waterways and paths, light everywhere.
(I just realised I’m going to have to ask him for those photos so I can share a few with you here. My words aren’t doing it justice).
Not only had he taken photos, he seemed happy, alive.
“We made the right decision moving here,” he said between bites of quesadilla.
Later that morning, I cycled to the gym and even though I didn’t catch that early morning stillness of a meditative walk through nature, I felt the energy of sunlight and green things working its way into my psyche. Happy.