Mornings

I love to sit under the papaya tree in the early morning. The rest of the world is still asleep in warm, cosy beds, but I prefer the cool morning air.

I sit with my hot coffee under the papaya tree, the perfect place to check on my tomatoes, my pumpkin vine, and my teeny broccoli sprouts, just to see what’s changed since the day before.

This morning is foggy. I see brand new marigolds flowering and a new sunflower poking through the soil, where I recently planted seeds.

There’s even tiny beans forming from the plant our 85-year-old neighbour Heather gave us, a lifelong bean farmer herself. Some of the pawpaws are turning yellow so I’ll pick them soon - apparently they are great for the gut.

I plant my bare feet on the dewy grass, as the direct contact feels therapeutic.

Coffee underneath the Papaya Tree.

Not too long ago it was important to me to get up early and hit the pavement for a power walk, listening to a podcast or music. Maybe I’d work out instead in our garage/gym space, or even have an early morning surf. I did this for nearly 16 years. But now we have moved to a quiet, rustic town and life is different here.

Sometimes I can spot the moon setting.

I like the calm. I love to listen to nature, to the local town clock chime at 6am, and the beautiful flocks of galahs that fly overhead every day when the sun finally comes out. I sometimes hear chickens from a few doors down - hopefully we will get some of our own soon.

I crave this morning solitude and peace in my garden more than anything now.

To separate the working day.

To just think.

To pray.

To breathe.

And when the sun finally peeks over the fence and warms my face, I know it’s time to start the day.