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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2095581
Rated: E · Essay · Writing · #2095581
Journaling observations of the sunrise.
Awakening a little before 6 a.m. and after feeding the animals, I gathered my supplies--blanket, notebook, and coffee-- and went straightaway outside to sit on the back of the truck to watch my favorite show: The Sunrise.

This morning's performance probably won't be terribly ostentatious as there are no clouds in the sky. As I wait, I enjoy picking out the layers of sound that accompany early morning. In the distance I hear dogs barking, punctuated by a brief crow from a rooster. It's as if they are singing a duet, each coming in at the appropriate time. I hear the chip and chirp of the song birds, and below that is a constant chorus of crickets. My chickens would be quite happy to find that choir...I tune in again and discover the swish of the ebb and flow of traffic on the nearby highway.

It's cool enough this morning that a light blanket feels comforting. I love the refreshment of cooler temperatures that fall brings. The stages of the sunrise are fascinating to me. First the sky begins lightening, then there is a rosy glow in the east that grows warmer and then seems to dissipate, leaving the sky with just a pale wash of color like the first layer of a watercolor. It seems to stay that way for ages until the sun begins to make it's actual appearance.

The cat jumps to the back of the truck to investigate. I tell him good morning, stroking his fur, touching my head to his head, inhaling his sweet scent. I've always thought that it smells like sunshine.

I see the topmost edge of the sun gleaming through the tree tops. It's so interesting to me, as I join the sun in its process of rising that the light of it reaches me far before it's actual arrival. It feels it takes its sweet time getting to the horizon, but once cleared, its ascent seems to accelerate as I track it through the trees. The grass has a white sheen of dew, which begins glittering as the full strength of the sun's light reaches it. Now that the sun has cleared the tree tops, I can no longer look in its direction, so intense is it's gaze. The cat, remembering I have a blanket, has rejoined me, deciding that at a bath in the sun might make his fur sparkle, and indeed he is right.

The sun, gaining strength as it climbs, is now so strong that I have to shield my eyes to glance in it's direction. But it's making promises to me I hope it can keep--promises of productivity and creativity; and it did all this just by showing up.

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