9 March 2004
Shadows and light
The official sunrise this morning is 6:49 am, right in the middle of my morning commute, and since said commute is now largely in an easterly direction, I got to see more of it than eye doctors generally recommend.
The evergreens haven't changed in months, of course, but their bare-branched brethren appear by some trick of the light to have turned their limbs skyward, supplicants hoping that today they will be favored. Grey against pink, a few seconds later grey against orange, and then the background is awash in light and the colors dissolve into the brightest white there is and you must look away or never see anything ever again.
The speed with which this happens tends to inspire the right foot; rounding a curve, I took a peek at the instrument cluster, and discovered I was whipping along at 76 mph. This was not really too fast for conditions traffic was light on this stretch but not likely to warrant getting off with a warning should a patrolman take notice; the police tend to be unimpressed with stories about heading for the heart of the sunrise.
Similar scenes await me for much of the next month, after which time the government robs me of sixty minutes and my morning world is plunged into darkness once more.