I woke up this morning and my first thought was, well it feels good to sleep until 8am. (it was 6:15) I lay there for a while and when I leapt out of bed and opened the curtain, I was greeted with this magnificent sight.
Every year as the earth tilts on its axis and the seasons change, I watch the sunrise slowly (sometimes quickly) swing from left to right and back again. When on the left, we get more daylight, the sun rises high in the sky, and when on the right (South-Eastern sunrise) we have more darkness in the winter. In a few days the sun will rise right over the Cathedral. I wonder if the clouds will oblige and I’ll catch it. A few years ago I nearly caught it:
These past few weeks time has melted and stretched all at once. Some days last a month and others never progress past breakfast. I mentioned to a friend someone had said the week now has three days: yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I get that, but still time has its schedule. I’m reminded of the sunrise and the changing patterns of the seasons. The baby leaves are just about to burst out of so many trees. I love that, and am so fortunate that where I live there are several types of baby leaves that come out over the course of a few weeks. Spring is not just a few days, like a high-powered microwave thaw setting that links winter to summer. We gently melt into spring – a full, calm, refreshing shavasana accompanied by the most glorious of birdsong.
In this time where we stop moving as we did, and the earth keeps moving as it always has, I wonder if and how we shift our awareness- of time, of task, of people.
I’ve taken the time to look up. I always liked looking up – my pink ipad is engraved with:
Always Look Up
as the sky adores the sun
Looking up, and out is a way to find a different kind of mobility, and even though it seems the shape of time has changed, it’s still there just as it was. I’m reminded of my husband telling me stories of the stars: When Procyon rises before the dawn, it’s time to plant the crops (because it means the Nile will flood soon).
Different time.
Sun time. Star time. Bird time.
We can find our time, it’s not lost and neither are we.
Hi Laura,
I enjoyed this post as it brought back memories. When I lived in the city, here in Auckland, I had a view from my bedroom window that included the volcanic cone, Rangitoto Island, in the distance. Twice a year the rising sun would come up just behind the summit and, for many years, I tried to catch the moment when the sun would appear as an ‘egg in an egg cup’ position, held by the rim of the crater.
I never did get the moment quite right, though I got close. In my case it took a lot of calculations: how many minutes past official sunrise before the elevation was ‘just right’, how high is the summit, what height above sea level is the observer, how much refraction in the atmosphere at that angle, etc. I finally had it somewhat figured but the morning dawned in full cloud. Also, I am not a morning person so it was rather punishing at the time.
Yours is a very creditable and interesting shot, though.
PS: Exploring link from https://photog.social/
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@laura Lovely post.
Thank you Stephen.
@lauraI enjoyed your nicely written sentiments, though personally, I prefer to watch the sun transition through the seasons at sunset with a martini in my hand.Best wishes to you and yours in these trying times.- Martin –
Thank you
A pleasure, Mary. Thank you for reading and letting me know it meant something to you. Hope you are keeping well! x