The psalmist writes that joy comes with the morning. It follows a night of weeping, he says. But my night wasn’t like that. I dreamed sweet dreams. Taking photographs and maintaining motorcycles.
Now I couldn’t wait for the day to begin. I awoke a little after four. It was still dark and I was waiting anxiously for dawn.
I started the coffemaker, ground the beans and got milk ready to heat.
Outside the air is cool. I sit and wait for the sun. Critters are stirring. A hummingbird works its way through the flowers taking long sips preparing for the day.
Dew on the grass glistens like Christmas sparkles and a fog sneaks in. It turns the morning air blue and snuffs out the sun.
A chipmunk bounds across the yard, hopping high as if he can avoid getting wet. I laugh.
Robins, redbirds and mockingbirds sing. The distinctive song of a rufus-sided-towhee stands out. It shyly scatters the ground under a hydrangea searching for breakfast.
Two Carolina wrens peck at the fennel seeds I planted yesterday. Then one hops rambunctiously through nearby flowers, chattering all the while. Ounce-for-ounce these little birds are the most self-confident and loud residents in the backyard.
A Downy woodpecker, who thinks we hung the nectar feeder especially for him, lands on the leucaena tree and searches it momentarily for insects. But he’s really come for the nectar. He takes a perch and drinks, frequently looking skyward for attackers.
While this has been going on the swallowtail caterpillar I put under a protective net yesterday has morphed into a chrysalis. I continue to be awed by this transformation.
Engrossed in this symphony of life, I notice the fog has burned away. The dew is gone, and it’s getting hot.
To borrow from Dolly Parton’s wonderful song, “I can see the light of a clear blue morning. Everything’s gonna be alright, gonna be OK.”
Morning is a gateway to hope and a cause for joy. Every day is truly a new day.
Hearing the songs of creation and watching its players, I’m reminded that all of us, we two-legged creatures, the winged ones and the four-legged, are connected. It’s so easy to forget and overlook.
But, in the light of this clear blue morning, chuckling as the little ground squirrel vainly tries to hop above the wet grass, or the cocky wren loudly proclaims his presence; as the woodpecker unabashedly indulges himself and the hummingbird cartwheels and caroms, it’s apparent. We’re bound together.
We, too, are made to soar, and even to run through wet grass if we choose. We “shall mount up with wings like eagles…run and not be weary…walk and not faint,” when we claim our place in the Creation and come into right relationship with the Creator.
We are made to sing and dance and celebrate this gracious gift called life. And we are reminded of this with each new dawn, and of the loving creator who blesses it all.
I posted some morning photos here.
What songs or new revelations at dawn have you experienced and are willing to share?