I can tell it's early before I open my eyes. Did the light wake me? The birds? Perhaps it was the fresh air from the open window. Does it even matter? I think about rolling over and nestling into the warmth of Grant's side, but I am fully rested, so I slowly get up to start my day. The second day of summer.
Walking into my hall, I see the light warming half of the carpet in my living room. I know the air is still cool, but as my coffee is brewing, I slip into a tank top and roll up my jeans. A quick braid in my hair and I'm on the balcony with a warm cup and a book.
I silently greet my fledgling herbs as I make my way to my lovely purple chair, already full of the cushions I daringly left out all night, having been little chance of rain. They are already warm in the morning sun.
It is the same way I started my morning yesterday. The light warms my face and arms, as I settle into the rhythm of early morning. As the sun rises past the roof of my balcony, the heat leaves first my head, then my arms, then legs, and the calm gradually gave way to an electric anticipation. When finally my feet are all that are left in the sunlight, the slight chill pushes me out of my seat, feeling fresh and inspired to accomplish. With an impetuous thought, I decide I will start my days in the same manner as often as I can.
I can feel myself relaxing out of the haze that was this past season, and fully embracing the possibilities of summer. I can feel my mind stretching, wanting to create and perfect. Having cleaned and planted on my balcony on Saturday, I long to make it an even more welcome space. It needs some character, something to make it beautiful. Some art to hang over my chair.
It doesn't take me long to dig through my ever growing pile of potential art supplies to find a pair of old windowpanes. Inspired by an artist's whose work I had seen recently somewhere on the interwebs, I quickly produce something that provides the airiness and color I am hoping for. It's invigorating to take something from idea to finished product in a short amount of time. I could and should surely make some sort of art, however small or simple, everyday. Another summer venture?
As I contemplate the making a companion piece to hang on the other side of the balcony - perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow - I cannot help but wonder how much a summer can hold.