The navy sky will soon fade from the sun’s washing of light.
For now it’s dark in Mesta Park. I sit in my favorite living room chair looking out my dining room window. The house is quiet, my husband off to work at the smallish former servant’s quarters outback. The dogs, replete with food, have settled in all around me to sleep. The candle is lit, bouncing light off the walls, while a prayer-book and Bible wait in my lap.
The words will keep, while watching the blue colors change outside my window will not. I’ve no popcorn to eat, but I hold a strong cup of coffee to help me wake up with the day. The curtain of clouds is open today and the promise of color waits for its call.
This morning glow show is one I never grow tired of — navy turns to unwashed denim to washed denim and corals and oranges and pinks mix into the crowded blue — meanwhile the artificial light, that glows through the windows of other houses surrounding me, reduces from stark contrast until lost in the sea of sunshine.
Eventually, my eyes let go of the scene playing on the screen outside my dining room windows. I turn my head to look out another window, but my eyes get caught by the light playing over my favorite Thomas Kinkade print, one appropriately called, Morning Glory Cottage.
I love everything about this charming little cottage — the blue roof, the fence out front, its name. And though I cannot detect them with my eye, I know riotous heavenly blue morning glories grow somewhere on the face of that old cottage. Yellow light glows behind the windows, and I think, how good my cobalt blue glass would look sitting on the window ledge.
Someday, I hope to live in a cozy cottage like this one, when I’m too old to climb the stairs of this lovely old two-story of mine. Or maybe I’ll downsize to a one-story before then, when I’m ready for a smaller place. Someday will come all too soon.
For now, morning has broken and its glory surrounds me. I look out my sanctuary upon the sky in worship. Only then can I break open the prayer-book to read.