Friday, August 11, 2023

In the Great Blue Bowl of Morning

We awaken to skies that would make an impressionist painter feel like dancing, to Canada geese singing in unison as they fly up from the river and out into farm fields to feed. This year's progeny sing loudest up there in the great blue bowl of morning. Their pleasure in being alive and aloft mirrors my own as I watch them with a mug of tea, eyes shielded from the rising sun with a sleepy hand.

Below the sweeping strokes of vibrant color painted across the eastern sky are trees, hydro poles, rooflines and village streets, trucks and cars in rumbling motion, early runners in the park, commuters with lunch bags, bento boxes and briefcases heading downtown to another day at their desks.

On our morning walk, we (Beau and I) paused by a neighbor's fish pond to watch the white and scarlet koi finning their way around in circles. While there, we noticed that the first fallen maple leaves of the season had already drifted into the pool, making eddies and swirls and perfect round spirals on the glossy surface. No need to panic, it's not an early autumn, just summer heat setting a few leaf people free to ramble.

I wish I could paint skies as magnificent as these, but I can't and the camera will have to do. What my lens "sees" is absolutely sumptuous, and I am contented with my morning opus. Sky blue, rose, gold, violet and scarlet lodge in my wandering thoughts, and on the way home, I think about throwing a bunch of clay bowls and glazing them in perfect sunrise colors. Emaho!


Barbara Rogers said...

How lovely. Our morning is misty fog. Living in mountains means the night releases all this wonderful moisture. The tops of hills are missing, and until the heat of sun dries everything up, even walking coats your skin with it. Glad to have your verbal/visual experience of your morning!

Caroline Ouellette said...

What a beautiful way to start the day.