Six Months Ago

 

I didn't have a photo from six months ago or today, but I did find this picture 
of a wolf shot nearby town during hunting season last year... It has no bearing
on this blog post today besides being startlingly big...

Today I was combing through my writings for some reason I now can't recall. I came across this little journal entry from exactly six months ago. It was winter then and it is still winter now. I won't keep harping on this endless winter of 22/23, but it is refreshing to know that I made it through without really going nuts.

So anyway, a time machine jump back to six months ago today

My house is usually one of the last houses in town to get the morning sun. With the town on the eastern side of the valley, and my house being tucked into a small gulley on the eastern side of town, I often sit at my front window in the frosty shade and watch the fog lift and sun glow on the Antelope Hills. 

I have settled into my winter morning routine. Wake around six, walk the dog in the dark to the post office, take care of some morning chores, stoke up the living room woodstove then sit down to my morning breakfast and prepare to write my daily column. When the sun finally starts to break over the hill, I start my truck, load up my tools and prepare for a day of physical work. 

Routines are necessary in the winter time when it is easy to get dragged into yet another movie or long evening at the bar. When darkness fills ⅔’s of the day, and outside activities are limited to the warmth of the mid afternoon, it’s hard to argue with the desire to be warm and cozy. Maybe pour a nip of Devil’s Brigade in your morning cocoa and not go to work until ten o'clock. 

Not that there is any issue with that. These are the most enjoyable aspects of this time of year. But I am one for denying myself pleasures until I feel that I have earned them. I tend to deny myself the little pleasures to strive for the big ones. I know that if I ever want to sing my songs on the main stage at Red Ants Pants, I can’t just sit around and watch TV during my non-working hours. I have to be writing music and practicing during the dark hours of the autumn. That is the only time that it is ever going to get done because I can’t give up my day job as a carpenter. I have put myself here, and I need to work extra to make it all work out. 

Bills need to be paid. Firewood split, oil changed, ceiling fan repaired and thousand other daily tasks on top of a regular job as a carpenter. Other people rely on me to have their houses completed so that they can go about their daily lives. I have made a point to work for people who need a house because they often have nowhere else to live. I can’t turn a blind eye to my friends and neighbors so that I can gallivant off and be a songwriter. I have established myself as a reliable builder in this town and I am not about to leave my community hanging so I can sing country songs in a bar. I have set high expectations for myself, and I need to make the right choices to meet those expectations. Hence, a daily routine. 

And so here I am, typing away at my computer as another dawn breaks. And yet, this one looks special. I glance out the kitchen window and see the pink start to greet the orange. The black pine trees silhouetted against the white snow and neon sky. I am entranced. I lean my elbows on the kitchen counter and rest my chin in my hands and just watch the day break. 

My routine is broken for today, but that is okay because this sunrise is worth it. Routines help get me the things I dream of in life. But sometimes there are bigger forces at work. What is the point of living in this magnificent place if I do not take my moments to appreciate the magnificent mornings that it offers. These mornings inspire me to write more, sing more, love my place more. And tomorrow, when the day dawns gray and cold, I will be back at my routine, channeling today’s magnificence into my future dreams.