...is not something that I consider myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm usually awake by 7-7:30, but not willingly at 5:30 like this morning. Dogs. They always need to go out. Can't we just potty train them? Anyway, 5:30 this morning my old girl sat by the bed...huff huff huff. Are you kidding me? NOW???? If there's anything that I hate more than getting up early, it's hot, stinky dog breath. So, feet hit the floor in an aggravated fashion and outside we went. I walked out with her, cursing under my breath, and then opened my eyes. Since I'm not generally awake at this hour, I never see the spectacular sunrise. And spectacular it was. How can there be so many colors? I don't even think there are enough crayon names for all of them. I still wasn't too happy about being awakened by smelly dog pants, but I did feel lucky to be able to witness such beauty. You just never know what you're going to see. That's why I always say...keep your eyes open. You don't want to miss anything. Will this experience cause me to be an early riser? Not likely, but I'm grateful for this morning's show.
1 comment:
That is a beautiful shot! I sometimes think about two passages from Hellen Keller's "Three Days to See"
"Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. "Nothing in particular," she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. The panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere convenience rather than as a means of adding fullness to life....
"I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind. And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow. Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again. Make the most of every sense; glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be the most delightful."
Good to reread these things from time to time, and your story and picture reminded me to do that; thanks!
Hope you and yours are well!
George Chase
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