Late September Sunrise

Dawn arrives a bit later these days; late enough that I am always up to see it. It's one of my favorite things in life, to be up, watching the sun as it rises. It's a sight that always fills me with hope. I never grow tired of it.

On this morning, I was up hanging out with the cat, and just as I fed him second breakfast (an affinity for which both hobbits and tabbies have in common, but few others know about), I saw the sun starting to rise over the trees. So I grabbed my camera and leaped on my bike and pedaled it across the road to get a better view.

I was kneeling in the field, snapping some photos, when I heard a noise behind me. Another bike, and who could be on it but my husband! He'd been asleep when I left, but then he came out, noticed my bike and myself missing, and came to investigate. And so we both stood smiling, contemplating the gentle golden light of a morning field at sunrise.

Then he wheeled away and went down the road a bit, and I followed, and we found a field full of the fuzzy little plants that we used to call "pumpkin finders" when I was a little girl. They grew in the field above our house, and we kids and our cousins would pick them, then use them (like divining rods) to point the way to bright orange pumpkins hidden in the field.

On this morning, the field was damp with dew. There were pumpkin finders a-plenty, though I didn't spot any pumpkins nearby. The fuzzy plants almost resembled a confederation of caterpillars, sitting quietly atop the weeds in the golden light, watching the morning come. A scene straight out of a late-September dream . . .

And so the song to accompany this photo of a misty field in gentle morning light is Gary Wright, with Dream Weaver,  from 1976.