I lay in bed for a few extra minutes to catalog the sensations and twitches as my body starts to wake up with my groggy mind. The window is still open but I am not cold. The damp air lingers around the maple that's budded out and the dull roar of tires pushing rainwater into pavement rises like waves just in the distance.
My shoulders are tight and tense even after a night of good sleep from pulling on the massive grapevines. My feet still sing the thousand steps from serving food and running food and opening bottles and running bottles. Inside of my thighs have some fresh bruises from the horn of a saddle as a barn sour horse tried his best to buck me off. And my wrists and shins are just starting to forget the yoga I put them through yesterday as I prepare to go to my toughest class of the week this morning.
I wonder when I'm out of energy if I beat my poor body up too much. My doctor says I should take it easy but women from my clan have been known to work their spines into twisted frames from years and years a of laboring the soil. I am pretty well set down that path. I should select a more cerebral passtime, but an object in motion, remains in motion.
So I put on my yoga pant, pour some coffee in a to go cup, shut the window before it hits 30 degrees today, and I'm off to start my day.
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