Jim Hare classic posts Archives

AM

The gas fireplace is alight, giving the illusion of a toasty, fall pre-
dawn cabin-like warmth.  It doesn't provide much heat actually, and
none is really needed.  I'm not even wearing socks often yet these
days, and the daytime temps are still hitting the seventies.  Instead
of the crackling of a wood fire, there is the slight stove noise of
burning gas, the sound of $$$ going up the chimney.  But I run it for
ten or fifteen minutes just to get a mood going, ignoring the harpies
that make fun of my little trompe l'oeil hearth.  Anyway, soon the
rosy sky will provide the muse with inspiration aplenty, so will a
little coffee.

If I knew anything about night photography, I would have tried to
capture an image of the sliver moon, Jupiter, and Venus cluster the
last few nights.  I'm sure the astrologers are all abuzz with
interpretations, but to quote myself, "...the truth is not in the future
that the heavenly bodies may predict, but rather in the shape of our
souls that the heavens reflect."

The glow of dawn is soft this morning, a hazy mixture of sunrise and
smoke residue from the crop burning at the south end of the valley.
 It is our fortune that the winds come from the north at the burning
time of year, so we get the unusual colors but not the smoke smell.  

Early morning is the time to commune with the metaphors of our
star-based mortality, a time to remind us to go gently into the day,
awake and inhaling deeply of the heady breath of life.