Sunday on the Porch

 

I wake at about daylight.  Carol stirs so I ask "Coffee?" as I do every morning.  Today, Sunday July 17th, 2022, promises a sunny day, temp in the 80's, humidity less than 50%.  I rise from our bed on the porch and enter the house, unlocking the screen door on the way by.  In the kitchen, I press start on the electric kettle then retrieve the French press container from the drainboard and put it together.  Next I set the kitchen timer to four minutes then drop five well-rounded scoops of Mudd Blend course ground coffee into the press and grab the one-quart measuring cup from its resting place and set it in position to wait for the kettle's signal.  While I wait, I gather my iPad, phone, and MacBook Air onto the breakfast bar.  The kettle dings, signaling that it has heated the water to the requisite 200 degrees.  I carefully pour the water until the level hits three cups then pour it into the press and start the timer.  I hurry to my iPad and begin attacking the day's WORDLE.  My secret goal is to solve WORDLE before the four minutes are up.  Sometimes I'm successful.  When I hear the timer, I put the lid on the press and gently lower the plunger.  I pour each of us a cup and take it to the porch. 

I place Carol's coffee on the table next to her side of the bed then put mine on the small table next to "my" chair and go back to the kitchen to retrieve my devices and settle in on the porch.  She has, by this time sat up in bed and grabbed her iPad to begin her morning ritual: read the Kingston Freeman, play Spider Solitaire until she wins a game, then do WORDLE.  I, meanwhile have hauled my devices to the porch.  If I haven't solved WORDLE yet, I go back at it.  If I have, I take on Spelling Bee.  

When Carol finishes WORDLE, she utters what is likely the second word of the day: WORDLE?  I answer with the number of guesses it took me to solve it — "four", "five", the scary "six," or the triumphant "three."  Neither of us have ever lucked into "one" or "two." 

As I strive for "Genius" in Spelling Bee, I'm distracted by the early sun peaking through our trees from the east-southeast.  Its beam crosses just above the lid of my cup and catches the cooling steam as it rises above the rim.  The wisps are etherial, tiny rising gossamer clouds.  The magic of another day begins.

Namaste.