A cold-morning sunrise

It was Friday morning, temp 26 degrees; cold? Oh yes, it’s cold. So I’m headed for the mountains? Why not – if it’s cold down there in the valley, then it’s bound to be really cold up on the mountain.

It was Friday morning, temp 26 degrees; cold? Oh yes, it’s cold. So I’m headed for the mountains? Why not – if it’s cold down there in the valley, then it’s bound to be really cold up on the mountain.

My main reason for writing this morning is the sunrise is going to be beautiful beyond words! So I’m going to try.

It is just now beginning to brighten up on the eastern horizon as I drive along. The flash of headlights is almost blinding me as I slowly slip along in this stop-and-go traffic. The plus is that I get to spend just a little longer watching the sunrise.

I can see a flock of crows flying across the sky, heading for their morning feeding rounds. In the short period of time that I have been watching them, I have already seen hundreds of them flying from south to north in the crisp morning air, temp 28 degrees.

The morning sky is turning three different shades of blue, starting with a dark shade of blue to a light powder blue, from one horizon to the other.

Clouds are now forming on the shoulders of the mountain peaks covering up their beauty. Just mere moments ago the mountain peaks were etched on the eastern horizon like the teeth of a carpenter’s hand saw.

The sky is lighter now, as the rising sun paints the clouds with mighty strokes of her multi-colored paint brush, using colors of orange, pinks and lavender. “Wow.”

I’m humbled by the serenity of the sight of smoke drifting up from a few of the homes that are set back in the meadows, close to the foothills. Such beauty can make a man want to live forever.

Just to see a farmer on a tractor out in the field working the soil. Then just across the valley, a rancher feeding his stock after breaking the ice on the watering trough. Still very cold, 32 degrees.




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