Sundays
Sundays are days to savor. For me, they are a mix of squeezing every open minute of the day and getting ready. I wake up more relaxed than a Saturday and feel like it’s the day that opens with appreciation. It is my most balanced feeling day.
I wonder, now, as I start to write if other people think of days like this. Every day has a cadence and persona for me. Mondays are start days and Fridays are wrap days, Tuesdays are all action and Wednesdays and Thursdays more contemplative and broad stroke. Saturdays are closure and winding down while Sundays are just open fields of time.
It’s a nearly fall day this morning. The air is crisp and cool and clear, windows wide open with a light breeze. A full assault of sound with the buzz and clicking of insects, a woodpecker peck-peck-pecking, birds back and forth ask and answer calls and the morning nap slumber of the dogs who have taken their first sampling of the day, shared the first coffee moment and are dozing peacefully.
I am at peace. The day holds adventure from the ordinary of grocery shopping to the extraordinary of the unknown.

