LEMON-AIDE

A fox just walked by, a red fox with her plush tail and triangle ears, like the one who visited our campsite this past summer. We took pictures of her because we hadn’t seen one up close before. We live in the suburbs. Our backyard is large. It backs up to a fairway of a golf course. The back windows of our house sit close to the fairway, our fence is made with thin boards nailed inches a part so that we can see through it to the vast stretch of green and trees, and of course golfers. Ducks and geese visit, neighborhood cats and dogs stroll by, and once in awhile a ferial feline, squirrels are commonly watched occupants, but never before have I seen a fox here.

Perhaps she came too far down the hills last night and got herself lost. Perhaps she is not well and became disoriented. Either way, if she’s realized now, with the reveal of dawn, that she is in unfamiliar territory, I imagine she feels anxious. She made a u-turn, into our neighbor’s unfenced yard. Our cat has been sitting on the patio, still as a statue, staring towards their yard. I wonder if the fox has stopped for a moment in the safety of the neighbors’s bushes, to think up a plan.

Now, the man with the blue fedora walks by, following the same line the fox did. He has not seen the fox. At least I don’t think he has because he is acting usual, doing what he does each morning that he walks by. He tilts his head down, holds his hands in his jacket pocket and walks with a gingerly unbroken stride. If he had seen the fox, he would break his stride for a moment at least wouldn’t he?

It is Sunday morning, an unusual one for me, not only because of the fox, but because my husband is away. Normally, or at least normally when my body is able, we pull our still sleepy selves out of bed, clean up, get dressed, and attend the early service at our faith community. Afterwards, we enjoy sitting in a coffee shop. My husband always orders straight up coffee with a hint of cream. Once in a great while…maybe once a year he will surprise me and order an espresso or a cappuccino. I order a soy latte and near the holidays, once in awhile an eggnog soy latte. We share a sweet morning treat…a scone, a muffin or my favorite, a warm, yeasty, gooey, frosted cinnamon roll.

It is beautiful this morning, many leaves have fallen off the trees, but enough remain to dab the backyard canvas with reds and yellows. The green of the grass has not yet faded, the clouds that have been hanging around, have unexpectedly rolled out and left the sky blue.

I am lying here on the sofa, on the side I usually lay on, the side that faces the backyard windows. Our gas fireplace is warming the space around me, which is usual on autumn and winter mornings. My mug of warm soy milk mixed with a touch of coffee sits on the table beside me, next to my morning meds., which I have forgotten to take…because of a red fox who herself is having an unusual morning and inspired me to veer off to writing land, where I don’t often go on Sunday mornings.

The usual and the unusual; I feel their balance this morning. I feel the safety, the calm of routine and the surprise, the wonder, the adrenaline surge of the unexpected. It feels good.