Magical Mornings and Tea in Bed

Mitzi at the Cocks Comb (her bib is to cover the license plate)

Just for a moment, pretend you are me, and imagine this;

You’re laying in bed in your car, all snuggled and warm inside your sleeping bag. Your subconscious mind becomes aware that the first light of dawn is making an appearance, and you open your eyes, lift your head and peer out whichever window you’re facing.

The moon is still there, hanging low in the sky, but the sky is a pale white all around. You turn and look out of the other windows, and see that dawn has arrived. You’re parked along The Cock’s Comb in Utah, and the tilted rocks of the earth stand like sentinels over your camp, leaning away slightly, twenty to sixty million years of the earths layers exposed by some catastrophic event.

It is still too early to get up, too cool outside the bag, and your face feels cold, so you snuggle back down into the feather bag and pull it over your head to block out the light.

Then the first bird sings. This morning it is a warbler. You lay in your bag and listen to it’s varied song, with it’s lilts, trills and warbles. It is sitting in a tree close to the vehicle, and you hear every little note.

Other birds start to chirp, tweet, and sing, and the warbler goes on for about ten-minutes.

You lay still and meditate on it, your breathing relaxed, your mind focused on the only sound around, the birds.

Then, for a while, there is silence. No birds sing, no wind stirs, you are far away from civilization, and all you hear is the rustle of your sleeping bag, the steady beat of your heart, your own breath, and if you really focus, the faintest buzz, which might be your imagination, but you’ve come to believe is actually the energy of the planet.

Then the birds start-up again, with cheerful chirps, louder and more persistent, and the sun starts to peek over the rocks turning them a deep red, and you decide it time to have a cup of tea.

Tea in bed

Next to your bed is an ice chest, on top is you camp stove, some water, and a little camping pan. You fire up the stove and heat water for tea.

Once it is ready, you hold the mug to warm your hands, and sit back to watch the band of light on the rocks slowly approach your vehicle as the sun gets higher in the sky.

You sip on the tea while still in bed (without having to leave bed to make it), until the sun reaches your vehicle, and the cool air turns warm.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get your computer out and write about it, just like this.

This is how many of my mornings start, and I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to experience them.

Roxy Whalley (April 16, 2014)

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