In the midst of upheaval and just the scariest time of my entire life - it helps to notice tranquility and beauty where you find it. Often, it's right in front of my eyes out here, if I can lower the volume on my mind's daily musical revue of old negative tunes and its favorite playlist of fears.
This morning, just before dawn, the sun splashed a soft reddish hue across the farmland I drive through around this time nearly everyday. I am still adjusting to not being on MetroNorth barreling into the ugly tunnels beneath Grand Central Station. It's funny what you get used to.
This morning's pre-dawn light was just so beautiful, that I really noticed it. The sun softly stroked the countryside, making it red. Yes, red. I had never seen a red like this before. A crimson red with sheaths of pink running through it here and there. Glorious. There is no color in any spectrum of man's paints that is the same. Inviting and illuminating, this unusual hue engulfed white barns, silos and fresh and still-bare, post winter fields in a hazy splendor. I didn't want the sun to rise and replace all this with what would be, in comparison, the harsh glaring light of day. I preferred this lighting. It reminded me of the morning or afternoon sun in Italy's Chianti region. It was warm and protective. You could disappear into it, or at least hide your bruises inside the deep shadows it made with ease - sort of like pulling your bed covers over your head and sinking into a place more inviting than its alternative. I could have stopped the day right here. Next time, I'll stop long enough to take a picture of splendor, for you and me.
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