Saturday Morning

Michael Ken
7 min readFeb 21, 2023


It was seven in the morning, and I began to stir. My wife kissed my forehead and quietly encouraged me to sleep a little longer, reminding me it was Saturday. Saturdays are my day for sleeping in, usually until about nine o’clock. Like most people, I wake up early for work during the weekdays, but at night I am generally up late writing until midnight or one in the morning.


I have a daily ritual I conduct upon waking. Once I am vertical and before anything else, before going to the restroom, brushing my teeth, or letting the dogs out, I first walk to the bedroom window, slide one of the blind slats up, and peek outside. I utter the same thing every day, not in an insincere monotonous way, and although the words are usually the same, they fall cleanly from my mind and exit my mouth as if it was the first time I looked out this window, “This place is so fucking beautiful.”


Most days, when I peek out of the blinds, I see gold. A large pine grove is on the property’s east side. East of the grove is a large tract of farmland used to grow tobacco and soybeans. In the wintertime, however, it is just left to rest, with its green and gold grasses blanketing the rich soil.

When the sun rises over the farmland, it is still relatively close to the horizon. As a result, the sun shoots a golden light that hits the pine grove. The pines cut the sun’s light into hundreds of beams, giving the illusion of gold rays piercing through the forest and onto the side of my home. Every morning, I am impressed.


Today is one of those rare days, however, when thick clouds block the sun. There was no gold to be seen. It’s funny how your patterns start to merge when you live with someone. Her habits become yours, your speech becomes hers, and so on. As she got out of bed, I heard the sound of the blind lifting, that familiar rubbing of wood on wood that starts my day.

The blind lifted, and I heard a gasp that prematurely went quiet. I inherently sensed two things as soon as I heard the noise. First, something outside was interesting; second, she was torn on whether to wake me since it was still early.



Michael Ken

My journal about life in the woods. Visit to see my complete journal, photographs, and articles.