Documenting The Dawn: A Photo Journal

It was 6am. I had already been awake for two hours when I looked out the window and saw that the moon was rising just ahead of the sun. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, still wearing my pajamas.

Like the sun and the moon together in the sky, the song birds were just waking up and starting to sing while the owls had not yet gone to bed. They hooted sleepily from time to time. In the distance, roosters crowed, and Canada geese honked in the sky. Closer still, wild turkeys gobbled back and forth to each other, while spring peepers sang happily in the pond. The morning was full of song!

As the sun rose higher, the roosters, turkeys, and owls ceased their singing. Woodpeckers started drumming on hollow trees and crows began calling. I could see my breath as frost settled on the grass and on me. I hugged my knees closer to my chest as I sat on the hillside, glad that I brought my gloves. This was the coldest part of the morning and it was early March. My thin pajama pants weren't doing much for my legs. The sky lost it's color and faded to a soft grey. I waited patiently for the sunrise to warm me.

As the sky turned to blue, jet streams appeared, but the sun was still not up. My toes were cold, I needed to get up and start walking to warm myself. There was a time when I would have been afraid to walk alone in the woods. Now, I had been here so often that it felt as safe as my own living room, though perhaps not as warm. I thought of the wood stove burning at home and breakfast, I had not eaten breakfast.

I stopped at the creek, mesmerized by steely reflections on the water. I wanted to stay here and wait for the sun, but the cold insisted that I keep walking. I continued up the creek and into the canyon.

Tracks on the edge of the creek told me that bobcats had been here recently. But had they been here more recently then me? My own footprints were still etched in the sand. I heard a noise and looked up with surprise! It was not a wild animal approaching, but my own dog--not the old dog that usually follows me on walks in the woods, but the younger pup. She had never strayed this far from the house. She had found me and aimed to be my protector. Downstream I saw her elder, my normal guardian, picking her way over the rocks. She must have brought the young apprentice with her.

As I worked my way back down the creek and out of the canyon, I was happy to see that the sun had finally risen and its rays were stretched out over the stream bed in the meadow. A celebration was underway. Birds sang their gratitude as they flitted about, eating seeds from dried wildflowers.

I started for home with a similar sense of gratitude for the warmth of the sun on my body. The thought of breakfast made my stomach gurgle. Soon I would be sitting by the fire with a cup of hot tea to warm my hands and food to warm my belly. Documenting the dawn had fed my soul.