Sunrise 6:02 this morning. To get to where I can see the sunrising it is a one-mile walk. It is the Intracoastal waterway. Anyone who has dared to get up for a sunrise knows dawn throws some light before the sun touches the horizon. From the front porch I can see the sky changing color, and, to be honest, it didn’t seem like it would have zizzle or sparkle this morning.
I decided to go anyway. I usually walk in the neighborhood to get my miles in, and sometimes head to the Intracoastal, like today. It was calling my name this morning. Taking my Nikon with me is no easy feat. I sling it across my body with the camera resting into the small of my back. The camera body and lens are heavy. I love it. I love the feel of it weighing me down. I love the promise of the captures that await me.
I adore everything about the walk over there. The anticipation of what I will find. The birds chirping. Cardinals crossing my path. Mourning doves soulful sound. Hawks being chased by crows who are being chased by much smaller birds. The occasional fox running across the street. Neighbors walking their dogs. Neighbors out for a run. Me walking. Trying so hard to get there when the sun peaks over the horizon. Walking as fast I can. Knowing I won’t make it. Not caring that I won’t. Embracing the moments for what they are. Mindfulness at its best.
When I get there, I easily shift the camera from my back to my eye in seconds and take the opening shot. It is how I breathe. When I leave, I take a parting shot, like this one, or maybe not as good as this one, or better than this one, doesn’t matter, I won’t know until I get home. Seconds after the parting shot, almost always, the sun rises past the magical sweet spots that create light to bathe yourself in to a white light casting unforgiving shadows. On the way home the harsh light is behind me and everything else comes with me – the memory of those moments, the sense of peace and the captures I will have forever to remind me of these mornings.