With my husband out of town, I’ve been busy working on finishing two manuscripts. This has meant that I have been working undisturbed, between posting comments on Facebook and Twitter, until the moon has travelled far across the dark sky.
The last two nights I promised myself I would quit at a decent hour, eleven instead of one-thirty in the morn. I don’t find it easy to rise before the sun when I’ve only slept for six hours. Six hours may be plenty for you, but the first couple hours are restless in my lonely cold bed.
With a jolt, I woke from my dream in which I was talking my photogging buddy Paul about catching sunrise.
The fire had died in the parlor stove many hours before; without lights I found yesterday’s cold clothes heaped the floor and fumbled for my cameras.
My body protested. Yawns tried to pull me back to bed. I glanced out the window. A couple of big swigs of cider would have to satiate me for a couple of hours. The chase was on.
I pulled on my Carhartt insulated overalls as firewood stood by the front door begging to be taken inside; stoking the stove would have to wait. There was no time to check the temperature outside. With neck warmer, double gloves, hat and parka, I’d be overdressed, underdressed or just right. I plunged my feet into my Muck boots and was out the door.
The frozen boardwalk betrayed me to the furry and feathered critters as it squeaked underfoot. Nothing in sight; good. The sun was still tucked in behind Canada’s horizon.
The stirring breeze gave my cheeks cold kisses while I chased the light for the next hour.
Good morning world!
Now for my pre-brunch nap.