Sunrise from the Arboretum

It was another outstandingly cold morning (about 4 degrees F, or around -16 C), and the moon was my companion as I stood waiting for the bus just before dawn. I got on the bus, and as it neared my stop, I caught a glimpse of the sunrise off to my right, down on central campus.

Above the orange glow, a line of light was shining up from the top of the sun. Hmm, what might the sunrise look like from the Arboretum? I wondered to myself. And decided, in an instant, that even in these frigid temperatures, I must go and see.

So I got off the bus and walked over to the Arboretum. And as I drew closer, I could see more light off to my right, between the buildings of North Halls. And then ahead of me, an orange orb shining off the law school building: a reflection of the golden sunrise!

I hot-footed it on over to where the fountain is in summertime - it's full of evergreens now, and little strands of lights, still bedecked for Christmas. And arrived there just in time to see the first moment of full sunrise, perfectly visible between the ag science buildings and the creamery, on the north end of campus. Suddenly, everything was shining and golden.

The flare that had emerged from the top of the sun had turned into a teardrop: a golden teardrop full of light. And the air was so cold that it sparkled. Maybe hoar frost, or perhaps just tiny snow flurries. You can see the sparkles in the center of the photo, against the light of the rising sun.

I walked down to the Arboretum walkway that I have photographed before for blip (in this photo, we are looking in the opposite direction, from the Arboretum looking toward East Park Ave. and campus), and I watched the sun rise. And I cherished it. Fully lived in the moment; took it all in. Breathing in, breathing out, wrapped in the golden light of a cold winter's dawn. And thought to myself: what a wonderful, glorious, perfectly beautiful world.

The song: the Grass Roots, Live for Today.