Sunday Mornings

We don’t have access to cable, or county water, or daily newspaper delivery where we live. But on Sundays, we receive both the Dayton and New York Times newspapers. I have to trek a quarter of a mile down the lane to retrieve them. But that’s not much of an inconvenience for a chance to drink coffee, eat breakfast and read the paper. Except in the winter when the wind is blowing and the temperatures fall below freezing. Then, the left side of my face is numb by the time I reach the roadway where the papers lie in blue pastic bags at the end of the driveway. Yesterday, I was rewarded for my efforts with no papers. In the early dawn, I shuffled my feet around in the snow, but could find no paper. Apparently the newspaper delivery driver and I have different expectations for the time of delivery. So, the dogs and I walked back toward the house. I stopped periodically to turn and look for headlights of the delivery driver. They came as I reached the front yard. So I turned and made a second trek down the driveway for the newspaper.