I’m a journeyman morning person, with a variety of life skills, who has successfully completed an official apprenticeship qualification throughout the decades of my life.
Recently when thinking about how I’ve always loved mornings and how the first part of my mornings always begin with the same routine, the thought of being a journeyman erupted as if a certificate had been blown out of the volcano of my mind. Mornings for me always begin in the same way. I tackle them with the proficiency that any tradesperson might do.
At this time of year we rise when outside it’s fully dark, yet I still open the blinds and look out. After morning ablutions, I shuffle to the kitchen to prepare our morning cappuccino on my trusty Sylvia. I’ve been making the morning espressos for several decades now so the steps are embedded in my muscle memory.
I grind and measure the whole beans, taking in the smoky aroma; lever the grounds then tamp firmly; pull my shot; then steam the milk for a thick froth. I make two and that is all the coffee we have for the day. But it’s the best.
In summer, we head out to the patio to enjoy coffee. This time of year we relax in the living room. Since putting the tree up and all the outdoor lights, we enjoy the glow and reflections made through the windows. We chat quietly — it just seems the way to begin the day. We linger.
When it’s time to carry on with the day we proceed from one task accomplished, to the next.
The fresh smell of coffee soon wafted through the apartment, the smell that separates night from day.
Haruki Murakami
what a delightful read
The photos of the Christmas lights have an enchanting effect! As regular as my routine is in the morning, I am surprised that neither coffee or cappuccino made its way into my mornings. Especially given that the aroma acts like an elixir.