It’s a slow start morning here at God’s Whisper Farm.  Meander and I went back to bed for a couple of hours – she to take advantage of my bed, and me to try to beat back this fever that’s been haunting me for a week now.  It was quite lovely to wake to a bright blue sky and sun shining in all the windows.  Much needed.

Then, the pup, my dad’s dog Caruso, and I took a walk . . . well, they took a walk, and I chased behind, trying to be sure they didn’t cross into the neighbor’s property or head to the highway at the bottom of the mountain.

But still, the walk did us all good. I saw a feral cat hanging by my burn pile – a gray and white short hair with a perfectly round face and, I think, missing one eye.  A lovely animal, but scared.  I am happy she’s here.

I kept an eye out for the resident bunny as we strolled. He – his name is, of course, Peter – lives over by that same burn pile (perhaps this is why the cat was lingering there), and I see him about once a day . . . hoppity hopping along. But not this morning.

We wandered up the mountain first, across the dry stream (I don’t think the term arroyo applies here, but I want it to) and on to the edge of my land, then down the mountain to the other end by the running stream. We crossed over by the Smith’s place, and I looked for the cows. Every time I see their black bodies on the green hillside, I hear my mother quoting her grandmother quoting the Bible – “Like the cattle on a thousand hills.” – and I am reminded that I am beloved.

It’s a slow start to the day to walk this land, to trail after dogs and stomp through high grass in my polka dotted boots. But it’s a good start.  It grounds me. It reminds me whose I am.

What sets you on the right path for your day? A walk? Coffee? Quiet time?