And the morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball...

Listening to: Fridge hum and early birds.

I have always loved watching the sun come up. My bedroom window faces the east, and one of the great things about living in the boonies is that I don’t have to worry about keeping the blinds down... the sun can come streaming in, uninterrupted. That’s not to say I don’t like sunsets, or that I am strictly a morning person – if the incentive is there I can stay up most of the night. Not saying just what that incentive might be. *grin* But I do enjoy my mornings, sharing them with a steaming cup of coffee or chai. The best days for this are clear and slightly cool, even a little on the cold side.

When I was in 8th grade, my family moved to a house (that we’d built) on several acres of wooded land out of town. At the top of the hill, in the back of the property, was a cleared area – before Dad purchased the land, a tornado had ripped out several trees, and after cleaning all that up, it became the perfect spot for a garden and orchard. Along the very back, a fence separated our property from the neighbor’s field, which was planted with corn, wheat, or alfalfa. For fenceposts in strategic areas, Dad used railroad ties – maybe because they’d withstand insects or he’d gotten them free or something.

Now and then, on good mornings during the late spring and summer, my sis Patty and I would make huge glasses of chocolate milk, and walk up the hill through the dewy grass and the woods in our nighties – I clearly remember matching ones that our gramma had given us, long sleeveless nylon ones in pink and turquoise that felt so good. Sometimes we’d stop at the blackberry vines and pick a few ripe ones to eat, or crush some of Mom’s spearmint leaves under our noses. I don’t know how we managed it – those posts were a good 5-6 foot high – but we’d climb up on top of them and stand there, drinking our milk, any slight breeze making our nighties dance ‘round our ankles... and watch the eastern sky, waiting for the sun to pop over the ridge.

What an amazing view... the sky would change from a deep purply-blue, gradually lightening to a soft violet... then rosepink, the colors intensifying before fading to the next hue. Finally, the entire sky would glow, sending a golden sheen across the tops of the corn stalks. It seemed like the world held its breath for a long moment, and then a tiny sliver of yellowwhite would break the horizon. Wow... there it was. Is it any wonder that the ancients worshipped the sun? The whole day was then ahead of us, full of potential, just waiting for us to grab it. Later on, I came across the Carpe Diem phrase... Seize the Day... and I knew exactly what it was referring to; I’d already experienced it in a beautiful, peaceful sense.

Segue into yarn...

This brings me to the knitting content. About 5 years ago, I came across the website for Blackberry Ridge Woolen Mill, and discovered the Rosy Fingered Dawn shawl. I was hooked. But at the time, the price was a bit over my head, so I bided my time (not like I didn’t have any other projects to do!), and this winter finally ordered it. Oh my, how gorgeous. The yarn colors are so fantastic – mimicking the exact hues I remember from the back of the Land, and the instructions are very clear. Not only that, they have quite a bit of story content, explaining the myth of Rosy Fingered Dawn and her sons. So there’s another project... but it will have to wait til I finish at least one or two other things.