There's such a short time when there's any light at all while we wait for the bus; for most of the school year we're shrouded in darkness, and we're looking at the moon and stars while we wait for it to roll up. We get up at 5:30, and Phoebe's on the bus by 6:15. Sheesh, getting up that early, I might as well have a cow to milk and chickens to feed.
But there are benefits, and most are intangible. Just being up and out walking then, you see the most amazing things.
Puddles gathering light, and a crossed X of contrails.
A vertical is nice, too.
The light grows by degrees, so quickly that it's lighter when we reach the mailbox than when we started from home.
The bus comes around the corner, out of the mist
and looms out of the darkness, red lights lit.
Back home, Bill walks out the meadow.
He wants to see what it's like inside all that mist.
7 comments:
You take such beautiful photos. I fell a sense of peace from these shots.
Such lovely photos from such quotidian events. (I've been wanting to use that word).
Those early mornings are one of the things I like about winter. You don't feel like you miss any part of the day. You can see early morning and late evening and not be up too early or too late.
I felt the peace, too. And had lots of memories of early mornings at the bus stop. Beautiful, Julie.
Beautiful writing...I love a quiet dawn, and the sense of promise it possesses.
Yes!
You need chickens...however, mornings are best enjoyed when you can take the time to watch them, unspoiled, as you have here.
Hustle bustle can be so distracting.
I love early summer mornings with the birds waking up and then the sun...it is so peaceful as are your photos and story.
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