Sunday Morning Quiet

Stepping out of the house on a Sunday morning at 9am I immediately get that Sunday-feel. But why? I ponder about it and then it comes to me: It is the quietness, the total tranquility of my surroundings. There is no noise from the road, no neighbour is hammering in his yard, no chainsaw is screaming in the woods and the only fishing boat I see on the bay is too far away for it’s engine noise to reach over. The sky is blue and the first sun rays are bathing the City of Eastport in a bright morning light. Molly is already ahead of me sniffing up the news along the pavement. They say for dogs it is like reading the newspaper. Who was here before me, did anybody drop something edible? And didn’t I hear the rustle of a mouse? Well, on this quiet morning one might actually hear even a mouse running through the dry grass.                Sunday morning quiet along our road I love quiet Sunday mornings. It allows me to ponder about things. Something from the past, or about the nearing spring and summer. Vivid pictures from long ago appear in my head, I see crocus and first spring bloom, and fresh green grass.          We are still gonna use our firewood for heating Well, it’s still a few more weeks until that happens, but anticipation is almost as much fun as when it actually happens.