It’s Sunday morning when I am writing my column.
It’s early. No one else is awake—not even the puppy. It’s quiet and the sun is delicious, but not hot. The air has a crispness to it and it makes me glad because I know it is going to warm up.
I started thinking about all the things I like as I looked over the backyard where the grass is all green and freshly-mowed, and the pony came to the fence and whinnied at me; wanting his breakfast, wanting attention, just wanting.