I WAKE UP early, go pour coffee from the machine that’s already got it waiting. I break off a touch of Bimbo toast and go upstairs to read the news and some gossip. This season it’ll still be dark outside.
As time passes, the day outside the window over the computer screen starts to lighten, turning from dead of night to dawn as the sun brightens the mountaintops. I finish the coffee and the touch of toast.
Sometimes I stand and walk out onto the terraza to get a feel for things. I’ll check the thermometer that’s nailed to the exterior wooden frame of the screen door. This time of year, it’ll be the high 50s. Sweet!
I take a look around, always liking what I see, the neighborhood.
Next door, of course, I see the horse in his makeshift barn. The street out back is where a house sits with its permanent dog up top. I doubt he’s ever felt tierra firma. He’s the stereotypical Mexican roof dog.
The horse and the dog are off to the right and behind. To the left is the sex motel, which is the building with the windows. The closer section is the corner of our upstairs terraza, here where I am standing.
Appears all of one piece, but it’s not.
The day is dawning foggy, as many mornings do these days. It will blow off in a couple of hours, and clear, sunny skies will emerge.
Until it rains this afternoon.
It’s a great place to live.
THE SUN SHIFTS with the seasons, of course, but I’d never actually noticed it doing so until I moved to Mexico.
I’m usually up before dawn, reading the news and gossip on the computer, and facing a large, second-floor window that looks out to the mountains. It’s the sort of setting that makes the seasons’ shifting sun hard to miss.
I attribute my never noticing this first-hand before to my decades of working evenings and sleeping late. By 10 a.m. or so, the sun is simply in the sky, and where it was born at dawn each day isn’t an issue.
This morning, I slept a bit later than usual, and when I walked through the living room en route to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, something I usually do in the dark, this is what I saw — sun on the staircase wall. I delayed my morning coffee long enough to get my camera for the photo. For you, I make sacrifices.
It’s late March, and we dodged the bullet. It’s a rare winter when it does not often freeze overnight in January and February, and once it even did so in early March after skipping January and February, fooling me into thinking we’d dodged a bullet that year too, but we had not. I think now that we have. Not one freeze.
The tenants staying in our downtown casita asked the other day which month is best for visiting here, February or March. That would be March, of course, I told them, unless you want to risk freezing your keister most nights.
But our sweetest month of all is November, and the sun arrives through a different door.