By Roger Barbee

 This morning, as if to announce the arrival of March, the temperature invited my wife and me to have our coffee on the screen porch.

Early risers because our aged hound, Nolan, wanted to eat, we drank our first cup of coffee in the fading dark of last night. No birds called yet because of the lack of light, but a soft breeze blew through the tall pines, sending a song of early spring.

We knew the morning was a brief gift of nature because, as the weather woman had promised last night, the soft breeze soon became a harsh wind that blew in colder air. We stayed and finished our first cup of coffee, but then moved back inside to the breakfast table. Even the cats came in with us.

However brief the time had been this morning,  it was a signal of porch mornings to come. On those mornings,  my wife and I will speak softly to each other, listen for and then watch the morning’s arrival, drink coffee, all the while sharing the blessings of our home. Cats will sit on our laps, the dogs will come and go, and life on the planet earth will happen on its scale of the unexplained.

Later in the morning, when I was wrapped up in its busyness, I thought of the monk Thomas Merton and his words, “Nothing has ever been said about God that hasn’t already been said better by the wind in the pine trees” realizing of what he knew about God and man’s thirst for an explanation of all things.