In winter, there is a time, specifically at sunrise, when the sun has not yet risen above the horizon, and it is as if the sun has arms, made of the most beautiful pinks and purples and oranges, and she is stretching them before the dawn.
The moment lasts but a minute, maybe even seconds, but the brilliance of the colors, the reach of them across the sky and beyond, is mesmerizing.
The colors have to do with cloud levels and the tilt of Earth in winter, making for just the right angle for the sun to strike.
Our old house had a picture window in the front, through which the photos above were taken. I miss that window and that winter view; it greeted me while I drank coffee. Seeing the sun rise amid those spectacular colors was a hell of a way to wake up every morning in winter.
At our new house, there is no picture window with sweeping access to the sunrise but I am often outside with Lucky, in the back, facing East early in the mornings.
Recently I stepped outside with her and said, “Oh,” as I looked up and my breath caught. I smiled at the familiar sky. I had walked into a world which was the the palest, softest pink, from one horizon to the other.
I waited and watched, not wanting to move because I could see the colors fading. And in moments, the light was gone.
Sometimes photos are best left in our minds and to the imagination of others.
Sometimes the experience is better than the photo.
My wish for you this week? A magical few moments of the most colorful sunrise before or as you enjoy your coffee. You won’t regret the view.