The morning sun peeked over the horizon, sweetly smiling his optimism on all creation. I smiled back as I stepped onto the front porch of the funky old rented cabin that I’d grown so fond of in a very short time. Coffee cup in hand, I faced east and watched as rays of light flooded the world, bringing clarity and movement to the previously dark shapes.
Oak trees, with their crazy, twisted branches began to rustle gently with the movement of tiny life waking up and greeting the new day. The ground was covered with tall grass and wildflowers, a dazzling palette of blue, red and yellow. Dewdrops added sparkle to everything. The air, sweet and fresh and still. Texas hill country is always like this in the spring. I guess I’d just never noticed it before.
It had been three weeks since I arrived at the cabin. It belonged to a friend of a friend, rented out with no frills. I brought my own bed linens and towels, hauled in boxes of supplies and food. So much had happened in the past year, and my soul was weary. I needed a place to get away, to be alone. At first I thought I’d make it a writer’s retreat. Or try to do some strategic planning for work. But I decided to simply go and be for a month, with nothing but a stack of books to serve as a diversion.
The rocking chair on the porch next to me beckoned. If I were at home, this is the time I’d be rushing around, preparing to leave the house for work. But I chose to sit in that chair for an hour without doing anything and watch the resurrection of the world in all it’s springtime glory. This was the best decision I’d made in years.