IT IS DARK WHEN I GO OUT in the early morning to walk, and usually still dark when I get back home. But if I get off a little late, usually because I’ve been reading and wanted to get to the end of the chapter, I may still be on the street in that precious time between dawn and sunrise when the people in the houses that I’m passing are beginning to stir. The phenomenon of the changing of the sky holds my interest. It is lightening up as it evolves from dark, to white, to blue. The guy who delivers newspapers is tearing around the streets, tossing out the local rag, and so I am wary of his approach. Someone who has recently moved into the neighborhood has three big dogs in the fenced backyard, and they bark loudly as I’m passing, likely waking up the sleepers in nearby homes. I keep on, and they fade away. I find that I am smiling to myself, happy that I am a cat person, and very happy that they don’t live next to me. When I spot my mailbox I invariably slow my pace, pleased to be almost home, feeling the glow of the walk, and already imagining the gurgle of the coffee pot and the fine aroma of the Colombian Supremo. The day is ahead and I am ready for it.
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What a wonderful way to start your day. As the sun is rising here, I watch the birds at my feeder and sip coffee. I love the quiet just before the busy.
Here are a few dos and don'ts to keep you healthy and active.
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Hello HenryM.
Thanks for reminding me of the days when I used to distance-walk from Friday evenings to Sunday lunch. The most precious memories, or at least those which keep recurring, are the ones of the dusk and the dawn., when the light changes so dramatically in such a short time. Of the two, I feel the dawn is the time that somehow makes it all seem worthwhile as it heralds the new day in such a brilliant way.
Best wishes
Bill
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You're right, Henry. It is the best time of the day.
I'm that guy "tearing around the streets" delivering the daily news.
If I see you tomorrow morning, I will give you a toot.
V.J.
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Reading your evocative accounts of your early morning walks, almost makes me wish I was an early riser. Almost. I doubt that I ever will be, but I do remember a time when I was a kid, that I enjoyed early mornings. In the summer, at the cottage, my friends and I would often take our sleeping bags down to the beach at bedtime, and lay them out on the sand, just feet from the tide line, with the ocean waves lulling us to sleep. We'd stare up at the stars, billions and billions of them, so clear in the night sky, that it was practically light out. I remember slowly surfacing in the morning, coming awake in stages, hearing the waves lapping, and a few gulls screaming in the distance, realizing it was starting to get light out and looking directly out to sea, to the east, where the sun was just starting to come up from behind the mountains. There would be a gentle breeze teasing my hair, and I'd close my eyes and let myself slide back into semi-consciousness, until brought back around by the first warmth of the sun on my face. Then it was time to get up! I haven't thought about those mornings for years, so thanks Henry!
Terry