Happy New Year!
So far, it’s been a grey year…but that’s okay. Grey makes me appreciate the subtle colours of snow, muted bushes, and bare tree branches. After the quiet grey, a blue sky seems garish. Bold. Loud.
Whether subtle or bold, it’s always nice to get outside, even if it’s cold. Walking clears my head. Somehow, the monotonous rhythm of steps is soothing. My wandering mind mulls over things bothering me, or things I want to do, or things I did that I shouldn’t have done. Luckily I have a dog who also entertains me during our walk.
She’s a great companion, happy to snuggle in bed before the sun comes up. Expects her breakfast around 6 am, but will sleep in with me if she gets to snuggle. She will stay there while I get organized then we stumble down the stairs, her hot on my tail. She and our other dog go outside, and I turn my attention to the first and most important task of the morning: Coffee.
The routine of brewing….4 scoops of beans, grind for 15 seconds, unceremoniously dump the grounds into a filter after extracting one paper filter from the pack- and carefully place the filter into the basket. Filling the machine with water, not too much and NEVER too little. With a click of the machine, the warming process starts. Followed by perking, which delivers the elixir of consciousness.
While I wait, the dogs come in and stand by their dishes, eagerly awaiting the fixing of their stomach problem – Breakfast.
A scoop each later and they’re happy, while I check the coffee maker. Steam billows from the heated machine. I anticipate the coming cup as I listen to the chortling blurbles and of liquid gurgling that signal the coming liquid.
The machine beeps, announcing the elixir’s completion. From the pot into a favourite mug it goes. The heat and smell rise toward me. I wrap my stiff, cold fingers around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my skin, entering my fingers, heating my bones. I inhale the scent of coffee, its bitter addictive promise.
On the couch with my mug, the little dog peers up at me, her eyes asking permission to join me on the couch. I pat the seat of our well-worn sofa and she lays in a circle, her warm haunch against me as I sip my drink. That slow soothing taste slipping down and warming my stomach.
The effect of coffee on my cells is like a restarting of cylinders in an engine, the gentle waking up of brain, thoughts, feelings. A body becoming alive after hours of inert sleep. A mind becoming able to articulate the clouds of vagueness swirling behind my eyes.
To be alive and awake after the first cup is wondrous. I love the quiet of that time, the vanquish of night's murkiness.
And then to watch another body fumble down the stairs, sleep-addled and incoherent, asking “Is the coffee ready?” is a beautiful complement to a spectacular day.
Is there anything better in your morning than that first cup of coffee?