We've been waking early these days, aiming to find balance between laboring on our land and typing in our camper, eyes glued to our computers. If we get outside at first light and do some work with our hands, we seem to be happier and more productive all day. This morning, we're greeted by milky pink skies, and a thin, velvety blanket of snow that has rendered our woods pristine.
The rosy dawn is our quiet, centering time to be together—before the emails start pouring in and the programming and writing begin. It's our way of easing into the day: our sleep-stiff bodies appreciate being active; our senses are awakened by the lingering hints of yesterday's fire, the lone drumming woodpecker, the delicate snow-lace decorating the trees, and of course, the radiant sunrise.
(now the ears of my ears awake and
e. e. cummings
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)