I walked outside this morning to the coolest temperatures we've experienced since last winter. The air held that brambly oak smoke scent of fall and it was 68 degrees, nice.
Later, as Little Bit climbed from my truck she, silent, glanced up and watched a formation of geese, high in their V formation and turned and threw me a big smile, her all cute. She didn't say a word as the geese honked and pulled air, hard on their way to the river. I smiled along with her.
The best mornings of my life, as a boy, were those first crisp fall November mornings when I was pulled from bed early for the first day of duck season. I'd move into the kitchen where the odors of fresh coffee, bacon and Hoppes Number 9 mingled with the promise of open skies and cold rain with high clouds scudding in waves across the marsh. I miss my youth when we were all so young. So young.
This morning with the cool air and the trace of smoke, geese in flight, and Little Bits' joy, I'm happy.