The morning is quickly becoming one of my favorite times of the day now that we’ve moved into the new place. I suspected this would be the case after we planned a house with big windows facing toward the hill where the sun makes her grand entrance each morning. I get out of bed, turn on the coffee pot and stand with my nose pressed to the sliding glass door and take a look at how the day might turn out.
It’s different every morning, sometimes a little dreary, sometimes crisp and calm, sometimes the sky spits out rain and sometimes the sun comes up with a promise of a beautiful day.
I’m blessed to be able to watch it from a few different angles behind my coffee cup. And I’m even more blessed to be able to pull on my jeans and shoes and step out in it if I so choose.
This morning I chose to pay it a visit. Lately I haven’t had time to be anything but be a spectator as the grass grew and dried up, the birds took their morning bath in the dam and the clouds rolled over this house. But I had a moment this morning where I felt there was nothing more important than to be a part of the world outside my window and beyond the road to town.
So I grabbed my camera, my coffee cup and the dogs and took a stroll toward the dam. The lab was thrilled at the chance for a quick dip in the water,
the pug kept busy chasing field mice through the tall grass…
and I worked hard to capture the way the light filtered through the thin skin of the bull berries…
the way it kissed the tips of the wildflowers at the end of their season…
how it made the tall grass glisten
and my world look fresh before the heat of the day.
I am in love with that brief moment where the sun makes my shadow long and tall when I stand with my back toward the light.
Because the wind will blow today. The dust from the trucks will fly.
It might even rain.
But I had my morning.
I will have my evening.
And I’m at peace knowing they will come around again and again outside my windows.