Courage

We’d had a storm in the night, and the air felt fresh and cool. I woke early, drifting in an out of sleep, aware of the dawn air from the open windows. The birds were also waking up. First a light chatter, checking to see who was awake, but gradually it built to a noisy, yet sweet, birdsong. Such a delightful way to wake up.

I could hear our vigneron neighbour quietly roll his truck out, wanting to start work early before the heat of the day made the work in the vineyards difficult to manage.

The sky was clearer, and the sun was just starting to float above the horizon. One more snooze before I wake up and start my day.

The storm has left the garden looking bedraggled, I need to try and tidy the forelorn looking roses. They look bruised and weary from the rain. I have to muster the courage to start to prune and dead head them, just maybe then they will muster the courage for another bloom. I can see a few days of steady snipping ahead, to liven them all up.