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Morning again?

We found this on a driveway in our neighborhood on one of our mailbox walks this week.  I'm not sure what it means that we didn't see it until rather late in the day–about 8pm, say–but the sentiment is one to which many can relate, and I think I must be getting on in years that it no longer holds the same meaning for me that it once did.  Throughout the summer especially I love the coming of morning.  In our house morning means waking up to Calvin's little voice singing the tunes of his childhood (the fact hat it's as often an Air Supply tune as it is the ABCs means nothing, I tell you); it means me going out running before the household is officially stirring, and returning to the smell of coffee and toasted muffins (of the english variety); once a week it means a visit from the milk man (I can't get over how cool that is); and after Jon leaves for work it can mean anything from a walk in the rain to exploration with paint on the easel.  There is absolutely no doubt that it is hard to get up the morning, but when the day is just starting there are so many roads open to us, so many opporutinities for the day, that it's hard not to greet the sun with a smile.  Good morning!

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