Welcome to My Morning

Yesterday was fairly cool, a welcome change from the hot sultry day before, and I merrily biked to the gym to do my hour's workout. Fifteen minutes on the tread, working my heart up, a full circuit of weight machines, ending with the gut-killing one for my abs--which sorely need work. Another five minutes on the elliptical trainer and I was back on my bike for the ride home. Gee, it feels good to start my day feeding my brain and my body!

I had no sooner got in the door than my son came knocking wondering if I was up for wood cutting. I had volunteered the day before but thought I'd back out.

"You won't have to do anything, Mom. Just keep me company because I don't like to cut wood alone in case something happens with the chain saw."

Whack! A punch right in the mother-as-protector part of my stomach. Well, okay, I'd go, but even as I gathered up my jacket, my shoes, and my socks--I was still too hot from my workout to bear putting them on yet, my purse, and my glasses, in the pit of that stomach I felt I really didn't want to go. Too tired, too many things to do, too ready to have some quiet time.

I went. As soon as I got in the truck I was glad. We chatted all the way to the cutting site, a farmhouse with some pretty huge limbs that had blown down some time earlier by the look of the dead leaves on them. Kevin put on his jazzy protector helmet, complete with visor, ear covers and neck cloth, handed me a brand new set of ear things to block out the noise, and we set to work.

Even with the noise protection on we were still in sync communicating easily by pointing and gesturing. Cut this, please. Okay. vroom, vroom, it's done. He moves on to the next piece. I carry the brush to its pile and toss the logs into the truck. We work at this for awhile and then he turns off the saw, takes off his gear, and we do some more sorting and tossing of wood. On go the ear plugs as Kevin starts up the saw and finishes off the cutting. Not too much wood that is usable--barely enough to fill up the truck bed, but it will be okay. Besides he has helped a friend get rid of a mess and this wood will keep Kevin's stove going for a couple of days in the winter. Well, a year from now as it has to dry for a year.

As we pull away from the farm, Kev tackles the messages on his cell phone. Remember this number, Mom. I do and give it back to him when he's ready. Of course, it's gone today! As he talks he drives these back roads and I am mesmerized by the abundance of tent caterpillar nests dotting the trees along the road. They are disgusting and I remember, as a child, having one fall on me, my horror, my lesson learned never to go under the walnut trees on our farm. There are so many nests I think we need to have a mass murder of caterpillers with hundreds of blow torches, like my dad used to use to destroy any infestations we had. It meant ladders and backing the truck up under the tree but he always did his best to get rid of the things. Guess he hated them like I did.

Finally Kevin is finished his messages. "Where are we?" he wonders out loud. I haven't been paying attention at all. We realize we have taken a long route home, and try to regroup. Kevin turns west on a dirt road. Oops! Up ahead the road turns to almost nothing and is blocked by a tobacco picking machine and many yellow-clad workers milling around. Turn around. Go back. Find another way.

Eventually laughing and talking together, we arrive at my door and say good-bye, another close moment frozen in time for us both to remember. I have had lots of great exercise this morning and it is only 10:30. I am so glad I went.