The dark of night has quit, dawn is heavy with silence
as light starts to softly appear like a whisper.
Slowly black lifts into shades of blues and pale yellow that become the new early Montana sky,
a well orchestrated symphony of color- morning is arriving.
I light a few candles, a winter ritual.
The light washes over the old oak table,
shadows dancing on the dark walls as the little lights flicker, a warm glow in the kitchen.
It's koselig...peace settles in.
Hunting for the coffee grinder I find it behind a box of cheerios- a good hiding spot.
I pour the dark coffee beans in the grinder, a waft of exotic aroma from far away places...
Arabica, Arabica, Arbica- my mind drifts...maybe Marrakesh, maybe one day?
The whirr of the grinder noisily starts and I am back in the kitchen.
I love coffee, yes, large doses in the am. is needed
Cold water is pored into the old red kettle, it's worked it's fair share in this household,
boiling water for hot drinks during our winter hibernation.
Simple is best.
Breakfast- two choices, knekkebrod with lingon berry jam or steel cut oats.
Boring to some, to me- never. Today oatmeal wins.
The stove gets fired up again and the oats and water goes in the little white enamel pot,
I wing it, no exact measurements needed.
My little ceramic bowl, " made in Vermont" scribed on the back...
indigo blue and black dappled glaze adorns this little pottery piece, it's not perfectly perfect,
an organic shape, still roundish...there is beauty in that.
In goes the blueberries, in goes the walnuts,
equally important
equally important
then the hot oatmeal with a generous sprinkle of cinnamon.
Breakfast of champions.... kettle whistles.
Coffee is on- good timing!
Early morning routine, candles being lit,
breakfast making brings a sense of comfort and gratitude-
I look forward to a fresh new day and how it may unfold.
Life has been so shocking lately it feels good to have something to hold on to,
predictable,
the gentleness of morning calm sets the tone.
Steam from the hot coffee and oatmeal rise, squinting I reach for my reading glasses.
Frosty teal colored...like beach glass,
they are roundish- I look like Yoko Ono.
These days I need them for everything-
including eating.
including eating.
Generally I know what I am consuming- it's just that I like to see what I am eating.
My glasses foggy always,
I can see larger thru the fog maybe not clear,
I can see larger thru the fog maybe not clear,
but it beats eating blurry breakfast.
This will remain the same until I figure out the secret to cleaning them correctly.
Outside the mountain has turned a darker indigo blue,
the sky becoming brighter almost an ombre of blue
poring into a lemony and saffron yellow tones where the treetops touch the sky.
Always dazzled by the painterly Montana winter skies,
I have come to love the intensity of the tones and colors each morning
that are so truly magnificent in Big Sky .
A hearty breakfast with hot coffee is enjoyed and devoured, satisfying as always.
One by one I blow out the candles and muse at the pretty pattern and wisps of smoke that rises.
Dawn has long since departed
Morning in the mountains.
Breakfast ends
the day has arrived.
