The sun has yet to rise. The soil is still dark with moisture from the previous day’s rain. The wet sage releases it's fragrance into the air and everywhere the rain soaked, soft golden leaves of the towering Sycamore trees cover the landscape. Beneath my beautiful trees I sit and greet the morning.
It’s early on a cool Southern California morning. Dressed warmly and sitting in my cedar log chair I surround myself with my wool camp blanket. The gray hair atop my head is no longer adequate to keep my head warm so I wear a thick soft alpaca cap. As I sip a large mug of hot tea laden with honey I sit quietly and watch the critters start their
morning with the offerings of seed and stale bread that I have provided for them. Scurb jays, doves and assorted other winged friends are first to arrive followed shortly by the quail and squirrels. On occasion a rabbit will come to feast. They all get along enjoying the bounty until a Coopers Hawk comes swooping down to catch its breakfast. In a flurry of sound all the birds and four legged creatures are gone. All is quiet and the Hawk sits on the fence rail still hungry. 
Such are my mornings. With a little luck I’ll catch a glimpse of Mr. Coyote, a deer or maybe even a bobcat in the hill above my home.
