Waking Up Country

Waking up country puts a smile on my face as the golden sun tells me it is daylight, my eyes open to its glorious sight. Waking up country is an open kitchen window dressed with red and white gingham curtains flowing with a breeze who insists on ablowing. Waking up country is a walk through the fields watching the monarch butterflies fly here and there, landing on flowers everywhere. Waking up country are the cows scattered along the hill, munching away or lying around, content and not making a sound. Waking up country gives feelings of continous joy as the wild birds stop at their feeder pecking away at the suet seeder. Waking up country means hanging laundry on the line with wooden clothespins grasping on tight in case a strong wind wants to fight. Waking up country is a blissful dream since getting away from a conjested and dirty city, which is not considered pretty. Waking up country is visiting with neighbors over the fence, chatting away at least once a day, discussing how many eggs our hens lay. Waking up country is a blessing of a lifetime, so grateful that this pace is slower and that there is time to push the lawn mower.