It does not matter which season or what the weather is like-morning has a glory. In the morning, everything is new again. Mornings are my favorite time of life.

Today the rabbit patch has a relentless wind that seems bent on disturbance. It is a cold wind, making it not fit to go out. Birds are not on a mission today-it is not the day to build a nest.  I have not been to the rabbit patch, but I suspect the burrows are full of rabbits with lofty plans.  Cash and Christopher Robin are sleeping by my morning table -the name I have given to a small round table in my den where I write and drink coffee. 

All sorts of sounds are coming from the yard today. There is the flapping tin on a barn which reminds me of a crying baby that I can not soothe.  I must attend to it shortly and dread it immensely.  Branches are creating their own chaos, littering the yard-just in case there’s a time that I don’t know what to do with.  Any structure here is in some jeopardy today.

That being said, I do not find the wind hateful. Wind like everything has a work.  Seeds will find out their destiny today. It will be a while before I know their fate.  The rabbit patch has several huge butterfly bushes that I did not plant. Their blue spikes perfume the evening air and what a pretty sight when the many, many, butterflies show up for them.  There are also zinnias in the rabbit patch-I didn’t plant them either, nor the lantana. Beauty Berry is  scattered about the young woods-I suspect the birds may have helped in that. I so wish roses traveled in the same fashion-but I have  not yet been surprised by their presence in the rabbit patch. They seem to  like their segregated life in the quiet rose garden within the picket fence.

I do hope that gardeners did not get anxious and start their summer gardens yet.  Warm spells can fool the best of us.  I never plant before mid-April. I have found it to be a reliable practice though sometimes there is a lot of temptation . I am glad that I did not “throw caution to the wind” this year!  Once, I lost my whole garden to a rainy spell.  My neighbors showed up with more tomatoes, corn and cucumbers than I could have grown. One gave me the most beautiful peppers that could have been on the front cover of “Southern Living”!  My neighbors fed my family for the best part of a year, and I have never forgotten.

When I am “housebound” and especially when I am writing, I think of such things.  Reading takes one away from current conditions.  Writing takes one inside themselves to a most present state-both of these habits can hold surprising moments, and both are worthwhile endeavors for me.

I always cook in bad weather. There was a time that I lived in town. My neighbor, Gayle cooked too on those days.  We eventually took to teaming up for meals and had great success. Those are sweet memories for me.  She remains a dear friend.

The morning slipped away while I was writing this-the wind did not.  It continues to raise a fierce ruckus over the rabbit patch.  I can not believe that the dogwood has held on to its’ blossoms thus far.  I do not expect the wisteria can say the same.  I am so glad Rae and I walked to see them, the other day.  She loved the smell of them so much.

The stove is cold-but that’s getting ready to change.  Soon the heart of “Sweet Home” will smell like somebody loves it.  There is also a beautiful old wardrobe in the hall that wants to be the palest shade of turquoise with cabbage patch roses- and the wind will not hinder either of those things- and maybe, if I am busy, I will not miss the morning glory so much.