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Dr. Ronald P. Rogers CHIROPRACTOR Support for your body's natural healing capabilities 270-384-5554 Click here for details 
  
Columbia Gas Dept. GAS LEAK or GAS SMELL Contact Numbers 24 hrs/ 365 days 270-384-2006 or 9-1-1 Call before you dig 
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Sharon Whitehurst: A Morning Without Rain Taking a moment out of the home-building process in northern Adair County, the writer describes checking out the 'new every morning' grandeur of sunrise with trusty escort Willis the Cat by her side... By Sharon Whitehurst On Saturday morning I slipped out of bed at the importunate insistence of several cats who felt the call of the outdoors. The first pale hints of morning were evident in the eastern sky as I raised the shade on the small window near my nest of blankets and pillows. It felt too early in the day to pull on yesterday's jeans and paint-stained sweatshirt; Jim was sleeping and likely wouldn't appreciate me rattling about. On a whim, I made myself comfortable, fleece throws snuggled around my shoulders, pillows propped to give me a good view out the window. Teasel and Chester-cat, having more sense than to follow their friends into the pre-dawn chill, resettled themselves, substantial rounds of warm fur near my feet. The skyline above the rise of the land that comprises our eastern boundary was a study in soft hues of dove grey, pearl, smoky white. While I watched, thin stripes of pale saffron threaded through the shifting veils of grey. Three large birds, cranes perhaps, or Canada geese, beat their way above the field, wings moving in steady silent strength, dark silhouettes back-lit by the deepening gold of dawn. Wriggling free of my feline foot-warmers, I pulled on a bag-lady assortment of leggings, turtleneck and wooly socks, topped with my long down-filled robe; I poked my feet into the handiest pair of shoes and picked up my camera. Outside the morning air struck with a cold bite. The crunch of my shoes on frost covered gravel brought Willis-the-Cat to the half open door of the shed, mouth gaping in a pink yawn, but clearly willing to undertake his usual escort duties. Huddled in my inadequate layers of clothing, I picked my way up the lane, far enough to record the promise of a day that might bring sunshine instead of monotonous rain. The house in progress, looming amidst piles of displaced red earth, the skeletal shapes of staging and a ladder propped near the front porch, even the white chunks of PVC lying about like the dismembered bones of some prehistoric giant, all faded in relation to the 'new every morning' grandeur of sunrise. This story was posted on 2019-02-12 07:16:02
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More articles from topic Sharon Whitehurst - Whitehurst Diaries:
Letter: expanding cyber acquaintance with Blue the Cat Blue will likely adjust more quickly than we humans will The Whitehurst Diaries: A Cellar Hole in Progress The Whitehurst Diaries: Gardening with Willis Grampa Mac said cats of this soft grey coloration were Maltese The Whitehurst Diaries: Our Doughboy, Uncle Lawrence The Whitehurst Diaries: January Thaw The Whitehurst Diaries: A Sighting At Dusk The Whitehurst Diaries: The Tradition of Country Stores The Whitehurst Diaries: Dog Days, August 2017 View even more articles in topic Sharon Whitehurst - Whitehurst Diaries |
 
115 Jamestown St. Columbia, KY. 270-384-2496 
  
   
 Provided by the Adair Co Fiscal Court and the Adair Co. Emergency Mgt. Agency 
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