The Grand Show: Sunrise Through Mist and Trees

"The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls." - John Muir

As the round earth rolls. Don't those words just sound (and taste) so lovely on the tongue? Mmmm.

I got up at six this morning to feed the cat and start getting ready for work. Through the window of the cat's room, I looked out and saw this golden, glowing orb, rising in the mist. Wow! I fairly SPRINTED for my camera . . .

Out the door I went. Into the yard. Across the road. And into a big, open meadow. The meadow on a perfect May morning was alive with spring plants; every tiny spider web, every dandelion was refreshed, dripping in dew.

I watched that sunrise. I watched every minute of it. Time seemed to stop.

Golden, perfect light. Visions of glory.

Angels could have been singing; maybe they were.

Paradise regained on earth: what can be better than seeing the world made perfect again at each sunrise?

The grand show is eternal. And the round earth rolls . . .