I throw another piñon log on the damped-down stove and leave the door slightly open. The coals spark to life. The coffee percolator begins its space shuttle takeoff routine, whirring and sputtering like a stainless steel dervish. Each morning it threatens to rend a hole in my roof as it revs up for yet another lunar mission wannabe, but I’m too sleepy to stand by and see if it actually achieves liftoff today. For a moment, I consider lying down in front of the fire, curled up with the warm wooly dog beside me to soak up those delicious waves of heat. Just for a few moments. Until coffee’s done. Or, better yet, until the percolator lulls me back to sleep. But I know I can’t.

In the dark, my hand knows exactly where it is. I switch on the kitchen light. Suddenly Matilda the heeler is grinning at me in full top-of-the-morning technicolor, big ears straight up like arrows, bobtail wagging, her crazy-quilt hindquarters wriggling in anticipation. She knows what's coming. So do I.

And the whinnying begins.

I look out the kitchen window through the curtain of icicles to see all five of my horses lined up military style, staring at my kitchen window, ears pricked, hollering for all they're worth. They want their breakfast. They want it now, dammit. Pavlov’s ponies, I think. For a moment, I wickedly wonder what would happen if I turned the kitchen light on and off, on and off. Would they whinny and stop? whinny and stop? I remember when we fenced in that pasture, telling my husband how nice it would be that I could look out the kitchen window and see all of my horses anytime I wanted to.

Trouble is, they can see me!

I fill a mug, hold it in my hands, relishing the coffee’s heat, and take the first sip of the morning. There’s nothing like it as the caffeine begins to rush through my veins. If only I could have a couple of cups before venturing outside, I think. But there’s also nothing like the chorus of whinnies resounding from my pasture. And the geese are beginning to chime in.

I grab the thermal Carhartt’s hanging by the door and get ready to head out into the pre-dawn cold to feed them. I am the waker-upper and the chuck wagon. Matilda is one step ahead of me.

Flickr photo credits: Mountain Mike; vera bing; Mountain Mike