As I sit here with my second cup of coffee, a breath of Fall is invading our open windows. It is the first cool snap we’ve had here in the Houston area this season, and we always welcome the tease. It’s a big deal here. It will linger for a few days, be the dominant topic of polite chit-chat, and then the moist warm air from the Gulf will muscle back in, and we will be back to our regular ‘hot and humid.’
I love the morning. I guess you could say I am a ‘morning person’. It is when I do my best thinking. Morning time is full of hope; the day ahead beckoning and full of promise…a clean slate just waiting to be written on.
There are few things I enjoy more than sitting outside, watching the day break with a cup of coffee. Alone or with another person, it really doesn’t matter. Already, Bud and I have enjoyed many such mornings at the Little House. Many times we just sit in silence, listening and watching the ‘show’. Other times, we will share what we see or delve into some deeper subject, or talk about plans for the day.
Someday….SOME DAY….I hope to be able to convey what I see, what I experience, how it moves me…so that other people can be as moved as I am by these things. I know my photography and writing (at this point) don’t even come close. I just need more practice.
There was one morning while we were at the property over Labor Day, that I tried really HARD to capture the essence of the morning, and I’d like to share some of those photos with you. I’ve chosen to use the words of someone else, though.
I stumbled upon an author who lives in the Missouri Ozarks, and who has written about it. I hate to use this new-age-y term (because my beliefs are not anywhere close to New Age) but his words resonate with me. He writes of the Ozarks in a way that only someone who ‘gets it’ could do.
These quotes are from, “The Hills of Home” by Jory Sherman.
“I’ve looked at these mornings for a thousand years. It seems that way. Yet each morning seems like the first, the only. I have looked into the dark mists before the day breaks and wondered what it would have been like to have been present at the dawn of creation. It must have been a slow process according to all that I’ve read, but it seems to me that there must have been a single morning that was like the ones I witness each morning in these Ozarks hills.”
“The earth itself seems to fall into a solemn hush just before dawn. The woods go quiet, and the whippoorwills fall silent. There is a change in the air’s rhythm and flow. I stand at the edge of the woods and wait, listening, wondering at the changes, wondering if I am imagining them. But no, even my dog cocks her hear and listens. There Is not a sound and I have heard this silence, too, thousands of times.”
“There must have been a day when a Man looked into the dark and saw the sun for the first time, rising above the horizon all aflame. It would have been an awesome sight. It is still so, even after so many suns over so many eons of time.”
“There is just that one moment, though. It lasts an eternity and it last but a split-second. I take a breath to see if I am still alive or maybe just to make a mortal sound. Then, the earth begins to change. It begins to grow as if the hills were sprouting for the first time, as if the trees suddenly rose up out of the soil and grew leaves, as if the grasses, smudged by night, emerged from nothingness.”
“The sun’s light begins to break over the land, shooting life and color into dead Stygian things, putting shape to gnarled blobs, sculpting the bluffs, carving a bed where a river will flow and then making the river itself appear as if by magic.”
“The hills take on form and definition and they seem like the first hills ever created, different from the ones I saw at dusk the day before. They are the same, of course. Yet, they are altered, too, by time, by the wind and the weather’s slow beat and by the light streaming from a star only 93 million miles away.”
“The hills are changed and I am changed. I change each morning when I stand outside at daybreak, struck with the wonder of this vast universe, the wonder of those things close at hand.”