Pine Mountain, Then & Now

Dancing with my Ghosts

Good morning.

There’s a sweet perfection to the birdsong and chatter that heralds the coming of the day. Here in the White Mountains, it’s an hour before sunrise, and the grand production has started in earnest. As I age, and bug season up here bothers me more each year, I think of how much I enjoy this music from our backyard or in our woodland walks and say, “Well, at least the birds are happy.” To them, this is a banquet of easy eating.

Sometimes, a bit of perspective helps.

As our world spins seemingly out of control, these early hours mean more to me. I wake before even Samwise in the summer months—he’s our early riser the rest of the year. I stay away from the news of the day, say my prayers, name at least ten things and ten people I’m grateful for, and boil water for tea and oatmeal. It’s in these early beginnings when keeping life simpler comes easy.

These summer hours help on the trails as well. We often beat the black flies and mosquitoes when it’s in the forties, like today.…