It was the theme for my son’s fourth-grade graduation ceremony. Funny that I should remember it so clearly. My son is turning 50 in a few weeks and I’ve forgotten a lot, but this I remember. And I remember that I cried.
Every dawn is a little miracle. An expected miracle. We know there will be dawn because there is always dawn and then sunrise, right? So, let’s go with the expected.
The sun will rise and the earth will turn because it always has and that’s the way we like it.
Thus we greet the day.
Why did it have to be raining? Why was today the day that every bone in my body hurts and some things which are arguably not bones, hurt too? The birds are outside rain and all.
They don’t expect a warm, dry house … and there’s a feeder to raid. I suppose, when you are a bird, a decent meal is about as good as it gets.
I know this means the season is turning again and days will get longer and ultimately, it will warm up. But not for a while. We have three long winter months to navigate and we’ve barely begun yet.
The bears have not gone into hibernation. Not cold enough yet? Too many trash cans to raid?
The sky is a leaden pale gray as the heavy rain falls. The dogs want nothing to do with outside. Snow is fun and everything else is okay too, but rain? No, thank you. Pass the biscuits. The sofa is home for now.
I have a doctor appointment. My right arm has taken to hurting a lot and won’t let me sleep. Nothing makes it any better. I think it may actually be a sign that my chest is beginning to heal, but why does it have to hurt so much?
It could be snowing. That would probably be worse, or at least, more complicated. We still have no one to plow the driveway and it’s a long, long road to the “real” road.
Winter has finally come, I suppose. I should be happier about it. I’m trying hard to find that happy place.
We seem to get our best sunrises on the quarter of the year. Sometimes glorious during the Vernal Equinox in March and just around Christmas, if the sky is clear, the eastern horizon lights up. Sometimes, it looks as if the house is on fire when the sky is that deep scarlet.
I can’t see the sky in the summer or fall. When the trees are full of leaves, all I see are leaves. But when the trees are bare, I can’t see the sky unbroken, but I can see it. Since I now have cameras ready and waiting for the shots, I just grabbed one and took half a dozen shots. I gave each dog a couple of little biscuits and headed to bed for a few more hours.
It could be the first light of the sun creeping over the horizon or the last rays of light as the sun sets below the horizon. It’s impossible to know. I always wondered if there was any way to tell the difference between dawn and dusk and the answer turned out to be “no” — not really.
I have seen sunrises so brilliant that they came through the window and the room in which I lay seemed to be on fire … and I’ve seen the setting of the burning orb over a bay that set the entire sky alight — 365 degrees of solar magnificence.
And yet, for all that, my favorite times are the soft rising and setting of the sun. The glimmering. A quiet rising and a gentle departure. Soft blues, golds, and pinks — the beginning and end of an ordinary day.
There has been so much craziness in our world. A peaceful start and close to the sun’s passage seems a good choice.
I am trying to find some peace in a world that seems at war with itself and certainly at war with me. I cannot fix it. The best I can do is find a bubble of quiet and hope greater powers than mine grab hold of the world and tenderly bring it back.
This continent on which I live — the northern end of the “new” world — was and still is magnificent. We have great mountains and prairies and lakes the size of small oceans. Giant rivers where the salmon have run for centuries and if we allow it, will continue for centuries more.
I’m not much on prayer. I have no idea where prayers go or if anything or anyone hears them … but for those spirits who might be listening, I offer a humble hope to hold fast to this beautiful planet.
May our better selves emerge to save us from our own savagery.
What is your favorite beverage?
Favorite hot drink? Coffee.
Favorite cold drink? Not so clear. I like Coke, but I also love fruit juice. All kinds of flavors, too.
What is your interpretation of ‘The Golden Rule”? Are there ramifications to breaking it?
I go with the Jewish version: “Don’t do to someone else what you wouldn’t want to be done to you.” It is the summary of most religious law.
Are there ramifications? Only if you have a conscience. Too many people don’t seem to have even a minimal sense of right and wrong. But they go to church.
Sunrise or sunset person?
It used to be sunrise because you can’t see a sunset on this property. Lately, it has been sunset when I’m somewhere not so “treed” in.
Do people in modern society anthropomorphize animals too much?
I don’t think we do, but some do. I don’t have a “count” on how many do what. I do know we love them a lot and why not? They love us back and they never pick on you for your faults.
What were you grateful for during the past week?
Our anniversary, seeing old wonderful loving friends, and making an amazing clam and shrimp chowder 😀
On the morning of the vernal equinox, I woke up to a room that was blazing in shockingly hot pink pre-dawn colors.
There’s something about the equinoxes that creates amazing sunrises and this one was something exceptional. I called (later, not at dawn!) a friend and she said she’d thought the house was on fire. It was that intense. I’m not even sure I have managed to capture the intensity.