Mountain air. That’s what’s out here on this porch in early morning—often. It has a quality that overrides my reflexive cringing from its coolness. And so I slip out into it as if immersing into a different world, an ocean of multi bird song, near and distant and all lengths between; of creek-water movement, constant in the background, of dewed leaves dripping reflected light.
Even the sudden crow caw startling nearby fits this world.
For I am in mountain air again, the child at the mountain lodge where Daddy had a share and we were there alone, just our little family, and he’d brought from the stream below native brook trout, early caught, and cleaned them, and Mother dredged them in flour and fried them up for breakfast, in the iron skillet, on the Coleman stove.
How appropriate, that out-of-sync breakfast menu, in that setting so out-of-sync with our everyday world, which even back then kept picking up speed and baggage we weren’t giving a thought—only to the multi bird song, near and distant, of creek-water rushing, constant in the background, and the taste of native (not stocked!) trout impossibly fresh and eaten in the cool of early morning mountain air, taste remembrance on my buds as I tell it, best fish I’ve ever had, I’d claim it.
Or maybe it was just the appetite freshened by that mountain air.
Lord, freshen my appetite this morning for Your Spirit and Your Word, Your presence and Your ways, so out-of-sync with the world beyond this moment’s circle. Blessed is everyone who puts his trust in You.
…And thank You for “mountain air.”
~And sunlight shadows, early…
~For multi bird song, near and far
~And phoebe (or peewee?) singing in the yard (lovely two-note melody, so clear)
~For blessed scripture bathing me like good cool air
~For hummingbird visitors at feeders and flowers
~And flash of oriole orange between branches
~For time to be out of sync with the mad mad world
~And (especially) for quiet within.