morning coffee

The light of early morning is dark blue, the stars fade away as the
band of pink comes from the East. Stepping outside the air is cool,
and the sound of sparrows fills the air as they sit in the trees
singing. Everything is fresh, the pile of cedar wood is not far off
and there are three big chuncks, these form a fire place, and after a
little work there is a cooking fire.

The old sheepherder coffee pot with a cup of Folgers is added to cool
mountain water and left to sit on the fire. The coals glow and the
smell of cedar and coffee begin to fill the air.


Sitting for a bit, the valley below begins to wake, but it is quiet
still, the air fresh and sky blue. Closing my eyes I can see my youth
on the mountain at sheep campon the rez, the rustle of trees and
bleeting of sheep. The taste of potatoes cooked in an iron skillet.


Watching the fire I can see the flames dance back and forth, and the
taste of bacon and potatoes comes to mind. Nothing like the taste of
food cooked outside, the taste of it stays with you all your life, for
moments like this.


So I sit and watch the day begin a new and start to peel some potatoes
one at a time and cut them up while sitting outside smelling the
coffee brewing. The sliced potatoes drop into a pan of water and there
are those sheep dogs watching me wondering if they will have a taste
of what is to come. The bacon is sizzling, and potatoes are put in and
begin to cook. The coffee is poured out nice and slow and fills my
cup. It is just right, the taste of it, sheepherder coffee, with a few
grounds left in. The smell of it is good and looking around it is the
beginning of new day. Hozhogo.