I woke early t' find the Sun were bein' up afore me. The low shafts o' golden light flooded me surroundin's wi' an unexpected warmth after the stormy weather o' the previous days an' nights. At last… a warm mornin'... a calm mornin'... a dry mornin'. Stow that bilge, Bos'n, we'll keel-haul ye! The prospects fer the day were good.
Old habits die hard an' this mornin' were bein' no exception. Water on fer a brew, tea an' vittles consumed an' then the first ciggy o' the day sent curlin' veils o' smoke driftin' away on the light breeze. There were bein' a special quietness about the place, the sort that makes ye feel guilty when ye break it.
I pulled on me boots an' stepped out into the world. An extended family o' blackbirds were foragin' nearby, nae seemin' t' mind me intrusion into their territory. Slowly the other resident wildlife announced itself t' the new day... voles scuttled around in the undergrowth... a hedgehog rustled in the leaf-litter on a quest fer worms an' slugs... a thrush 'ad found a juicy snail an' were bein' busy thrashin' it against a well-used anvil-stone, this latter fact bein' borne out by the adjacent pile o' discarded shell-shards.
I strolled through the long dew-laden grass, marvellin' at the variety o' wild flowers an' seed-heads. Each step sent a shower o' silver droplets into the air around me feet, an' soon I were bein' wet from the knees down.
I wandered o'er t' a hoary auld willow tree an' stood beneath its canopy o' weepin' branches. Load the cannons! Have ye seen the size o' the cabin-boy's hornpipe? The ground were bein' drier there, an' beneath me feet a multitude o' insect lives were goin' about their daily routines, oblivious t' the giant standin' amid their microcosm. In the branches above, more birds were wakin' from their overnight roosts an' the chorus were bein' soon in full swing.
This were bein' a place t' tarry a while, t' soak up the atmosphere, t' appreciate the wonders that Nature puts in even the wildest o' places. Aarrr! I sat back against the trunk o' the tree an' relaxed wi'out a care, watchin' the world go by at its own pace.
I were bein' so engrossed in this place that it took a long time fer me t' realise that I were bein' nae alone. Yaaarrrrr! Load the cannons! Lookin' back down the slope I noticed a lone figure approachin'. An' hoist the mains'l! Yo Ho Ho! Not wantin' anyone t' spoil me appreciation o' the mornin', I slipped around t' the other side o' the tree in the hope that the intruder would pass by wi'out noticin' me, but it were bein' t' no avail. When the newcomer reached me place o' rest I looked up, smiled an' ventured a polite “Good Mornin'”.
The reply o' “Haven’t ye cut that bloody lawn yet?” wasn’t entirely unexpected.