Mornings

I heard Morris's feet on the floor of the bedroom as he transitioned from the carpet to the hardwood floor.
Tick...tick...tick.
Stop
Tick...tick...tick. Slight jangle of his dog tags.
That is how I wake up most mornings. Almost 5 AM sharp.

He stands quietly as he hears me get up. I'm pretty sure he can't see me in the shadows until I bump into him. But then he moves into action and heads towards the porch door.
And our morning routine begins.
He goes out and takes care of business with his little collar light on.
I prepare his breakfast with the canned dog food and kibbles softened a bit with water.
He comes in, scouts around, eats, and then goes back to bed on 'his' couch.

I have my coffee and pull up the weather on the internet.

Saturday before dawn, I grabbed a camera and went out the door. The weather was mild in the 20's. Not the bone chilling cold of the past couple of weeks.

When I got to the ridge the colors were barely appearing in the sky. The deep blues and purples of night were slowly beginning to fade.
Predawn.
I love predawn.
I decided to hike across last year's soybean field and peer down into the neighbor's land towards Riley Road.

The ridge-top glowed with leftover snow from this past week's snow. It is much lovelier with a lot of snow, but here I saw the rows of stubby soybeans poking up in rows. It made for an interesting pattern.

The sun would arrive around 7:30, I intended to be back home by then so I turned around and walked along the fence row of trees towards the gravel driveway that borders this field. It would be faster than back tracking over the soybean field.

I stopped and turned to look towards the south. Fog was beginning to form in the low lying areas.
And the sight was stunning.

The eastern sky was beautiful, but the southern sky was incredible with hues of pinks, blues, and purples contrasted by the reddish brown weeds. Sometimes the best views are not the predawn skies.

It is hard to describe the feeling I get when I stand solo in a field or on a roadside and watch the day begin to break.
Peace. Awe. Wonder.

"The Dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep." Rumi

Maybe that is why I enjoy it so much.

Sunday morning there was no sun. The fog kept dropping down and then lifting. I stood on the porch when I let Morris out and wondered if there was enough moisture to cause hoar frost on the ridge.

I made the coffee, had a few sips and headed out.

It was very thick and sort of spooky. As I went up the driveway towards the ridge it changed in color and thickness.
The fog undulated and changed.
As if it were alive.

I collected the mail at the box and looked around for any frost. Apparently it was too warm for it to develop, the temperature on the ridge was much warmer.

And the road simply disappeared.

It was eerie and pleasing at the same time. When I peered into the woods I seemed to be greeted by merely a bluish wall of fog.

It kept changing as I walked back home.

This morning I stood on the porch with Morris as we listened to the rain crash down on the roof. Eventually he ventured out and did his business.
I wondered how all of this rain was going to react with the cold gravel roads.
Instant Ice.

The run off will rush down the hillsides and down through the creeks. Instant flash floods.

And when Morris came back and shook off, I leaned down to pet his wet back and thought how nice it was not to be commuting 30 miles this morning.

I went back inside and enjoyed a nice quiet cup of coffee and listened to the rain.