That last morning we rose to a gentle cell phone alarm, dressed quickly in still wet swim suits and cover ups, and scrambled across to the beach for an even gentler sunrise.
It’s the exact opposite of a mountain-enclosed sunrise, in that it begins ahead of schedule and is far from shy. That far south, dawn illuminates everything with concentric rings of glowing pastels, not unlike what we love so much at home.
The sky above us was ice blue, and the sky that drew our gaze- all the way to the razor edge horizon- was now stacked with intense pink and lilac, no longer stormy grays from the day before. The moon still hung smooth and silver over the fishing pier. Just barely less than half full.
The waters were evenly choppy, calmish, a brilliant metallic blue. Sparkling. Again, not unlike our pond at home lately. What few waves cropped up in little crescendos managed to strike flashing moments of gold in the blooming daylight.
We fed the birds again and walked barefoot once more on the damp, pliable sand. We inhaled the salty air and scanned the bay for our shark friend. I felt that familiar mix of emotions tied to leaving a place you love to return to a place you love. We had just done this a few days before.
A little while later, dispensing hotel coffee into my Styrofoam cup, I thought of buttered grits with salt and pepper, of dense, creamy scrambled eggs and warm watermelon. Chicory coffee and the smell of powdered sugar and fresh pralines. Spicy shrimp scattered over excellent salad greens and sub-tropical potted greens exploding from every iron balcony. Live music and unbridled artistic expression, crooked sidewalks and smooth carved statues, some of them now removed.
Then I thought of our beautiful farm and even better coffee. And my own wild gardens and that upstairs closet full of recently edited artwork that wants to see the light of day again. I thought of our animals and our family, of Mother’s Day and summertime and new adventures on the horizon.
I thought of Colorado sunrises and a certain artist who enjoys them.
This morning I woke to the strong fragrance and gurgling sounds of my own coffee machine. I felt my big, muscular, silky dog nuzzling my feet and growling in that early morning, contended way he does. We crept outside together to see the shimmering daybreak and feed the horses and chickens, explore the gardens again, and play an early round of fetch.
Our own Big Easy, our own beachy sky, our own home base thrumming with all the Love we have cultivated.
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
XOXOXOXO
