I have a passion for the sunset. But this past week, for some odd reason, I have been beckoned by the sunrise. Despite 25 years of life, I can’t recall a time when I actual sat and watched the rising of sun. I’ve seen its effects around me nearly on a daily basis, but never the witness of the orb’s first rays creeping over the distant horizon.
We got up at 5:30. I had to wake them all up to remind them we were going. We piled into my trusty Mazda and headed to a place we love. Because this place might be finding itself found in my posts more and more (it’s the same location as our evening get-away from two weeks ago), I am going to give it a name. Hero’s Crossing. **wink wink to my local peeps**. We headed towards Hero’s Crossing, driving directly into the faint dimming on the horizon. We parked and began walking. It was just barely light enough to not need a flash light by the time we got there. It was beautiful.
We walked to the top of the hill and I noted to myself that I didn’t remember being that winded last time I walked to the top.
We positioned ourselves as best we could, to have the best view of the sunrise. We sat. And waited. And waited. It was cool, but not cold. The view from the hill overlooked portions of the golden valley. It was like seeing the pre-dawn world through sepia tones. We waited for almost an hour, which was not boring, as we talked, laughed, watched deer, explored the hilltop, watched for predatorial beasties, and had an all-around lovely crisp early morning…
And with the sun, what had at first been creamy hues of brown, became overwhelming shades of brilliant, firey orange. We watched until the entire circle of the sun had summitted the horizon and then hiked back down our little hill.
And after poking around in ruins of old buildings and under bridges of dried out creeks...we headed home, away from the sunrise.