T.T.: Just Stop Walking

Lately, I've been taking the dogs for a walk every morning just as the sun is coming up. I started doing it during our last heat wave because it was the only time of day I was assured of cool air, and I wanted to get at least a little bit of freshness before the rest of the day descended into a constant sheen of sweat.

The dogs are fans. They spend the whole time racing out over the range, sometimes to chase the occasional antelope, but mostly just to run.

And I have found myself a fan of more than just the cool air. It's the only time of day that I'm awake and not within earshot of four children. A rare luxury.

I don't go far--only about a quarter mile down the road and back. So it's maybe only fifteen minutes that I'm gone. There are never any children awake when I go at about 5:45 a.m., but Poppy is sometimes awake when I get back. Sometimes I get home to find her standing at the door, looking for me. Sometimes she doesn't bother standing passively at the door and instead decides to be proactive.

Proof that she's lying when she says she "too little" to put her shoes on by herself.

I never know when she's going to be awake and waiting for me to get home, though, which means that I spend much of the walk looking behind me to see if she's coming. 

I also spend at least half of the walk planning what I need to get done that day, starting when I get home. 

Neither of these two things contributes to the relaxation of a solo walk, however. In fact, they cause me to speed up, to just get home and get to my tasks. Which of course is not at all the point of the walk.

So. There is a point in the walk, just at the gate to my neighbor's pasture, where I always stop. I need the reminder to stop walking and just stand in the stillness for a minute.

This is a really good place to stop. The rising sun is perfectly framed between an apricot tree and the windmill in my neighbor's pasture.

Morning has broken on the range.

There are no roses to stop and smell, but there is the sun, on a quiet and empty stretch of range. It's there every day. I just need to remember to stop walking and look.