Morning has broken

March 14, 2017


I woke this morning by the smells of that crisp scent of the Indonesian petite jasmine wafting across the yard to my pillow. The glowing light magnifies the reflective colours of my gigantic Golden Bamboo bushes by the sun deck to even more golden. The air is cool and fresh, the sound of nature tranquil.


A family of wild hens, the ayam utan, are roaming across my yard, making a rather amusing noise that even my two very sleepy cats would lift their heads to wonder. Our peaceful morning has broken… Wild or tamed, a chicken is… still… a chicken.


The morning is a wonderful time of day. The first smell of fresh cool air, blossoming flowers and freshly brewed coffee can put us under a magic spell. The feeling of freshness, the beginning and the ‘there’s always a new day’ feeling keeps us going repeatedly.


I get up slowly. I have always liked to give myself an extra earlier hour with a cup of strong fresh coffee before any first thing in the morning begins. It’s an absolute joy. And though I have not been able to always achieve this, being the first to get up and hit the breakfast pantry before anyone else in the house somehow gives a little sense of advantage.


It’s always nice to feel properly awake and be able to smile widely when saying our first good morning. The best morning is often when we realise that we have the whole day that is hardly planned or unplanned. The dilemma of whether to get up to enjoy the morning mists or to continue to snooze on without feeling any guilt is a luxury. We must remember one of those days when we find ourselves running out of ideas on what to do with the day - it’s not all boring, is it? To many of us, it’s even rare and precious.


After my first cup of coffee and a quiet reflective hour, a magic morning charm is usually followed by the rises of all senses. The air seems electrified, the misty leafs wave along the gentle morning breezes, the colour of trees slightly changed. Even geckos echo my house that put my two very sleepy cats quickly lifted their heads with instant appetite.


By this time, I am on my second cup of coffee. The tranquillity now seems to turn to vitality. The light is brighter and a fine day enthusiastically calls. I am not thinking of breakfast. I want more than toasts and eggs, and I want my first meal of a fine day to be longer. I want something a little more dramatic for such a precious day like this.



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