Early Sunday Times

June 23, 2019

I hadn’t intended on being up so early today.  It’s Sunday, the one day I allow myself to sleep in a bit, possibly to 7.  But not this morning.  I slept with the windows open last night, enjoying an early summer still boasting its nighttime spring temperatures.  And so I heard them.  The chickens. One hundred fifty yards away. There was a fox.

If you know me, this bit of information may make you a bit incredulous; I’ve become nearly deaf as the proverbial doornail in one ear, and the other’s not far behind.  And yet the cry of a chicken (or at least 200 of them) can wake me and send me out the door, shotgun and flashlight in hand. Sometimes, I even bother to dress…

I don’t move as swiftly as I once did, and the far henhouse is exactly that.  The culprit was gone, it’s breakfast secured at my expense. I’ll make the necessary adjustments to secure the henhouse better.  I’ve learned one must be content with simply stopping the threat instead of focused on its destruction.

All this before 5am. Dixie, the amazing border collie (Scottish), greets me after I’ve secured the shotgun.  She’s no fan of firearms.  I let her out for her morning run and warmup yesterday’s coffee in the microwave.  The thought of going back to bed crosses my mind, but would ruin my day.  The sun is now up and so am I…(“never let the sun catch you in bed”).

Because it is Sunday, I settle with my coffee and continue to read “Love in the Ruins” by Walker Percy. The sub title has something to do with being a bad Catholic and End of the world.  Fitting.  I sit on the bench on the front porch.  It’s cool enough to warrant a sweatshirt and a ballcap.  The light filters through the eastern sky and extends shadows to the west, my vantage point.

Dixie, the amazing border collie (Scottish), has returned soaked with dew.  This dog has given me more than I could ever repay.  Never doubt the ability of a pet to right your faltering, failing ship.  We are well matched.  Come to think of it, nearly all my relationships now could be described that way. It’s a good place to be.  

And so, this Sunday finds me more content than I’ve ever been.  Which is not to say there are no worries.  Foxes still lurk, literally and proverbially.  But I finally understand the importance of patience, the necessity of faith, and the cleansing work of simply letting things go.  Still, that fox better change it’s evil ways…

James Bourne

The Chicken and The Egg

Jun 9th, 2019