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There is one thing I love about being awake at sunrise: how beautiful it can be. The sky slowly shifts from inky black to a gorgeous watercolor wash of vibrant pinks and oranges and a bit of purple down near the horizon and in the shadows. I once described it as looking like a gypsy's patchwork skirt, spread across the sky. I'm thankful that I'm able to see it and enjoy its beauty.

I saw the sun rise over the Atlantic in October '00 when I was in Myrtle Beach. No idea why I woke up so early that day, but I was up around six and since I was staying near the beach, I went down to walk by the shore and was blessed with the chance to watch the sun rise over the water. I got some great pictures of it.

There's something peaceful and calming about the world at sunrise. Everything's just waking up so it's still quiet, other than birds which are singing about how they got the worm (second mouse gets the cheese, though). It's quiet and the day is new, still filled with promise and hope and potential. It's the only time of the morning I don't entirely mind being up, though I'd rather it be because I simply haven't gone to bed yet and not because I had to haul myself out of bed that early. ;p

The front wall of my living room has a leaded window on it and I painted the different sections with purple, red, orange, and yellow. It being summer, I have it open most of the time to let the breezes in and, most definitely, the cooler night air since it can get so blazingly hot in here during the day. Today, I was still up at sunrise and I was getting something to eat before I went to bed, since it's hard to fall asleep when you're hungry, and I looked over in the direction of the front wall and was struck by how gorgeous the leaded window looks this time of day. Both...halves (for lack of a better term) are identical so when the lower one is raised up, its sections line up perfectly with the sections of the upper half. They're painted in identical manner as well, so with the light shining through two pieces of glass which are the same colour, it's a very vibrant, intense sight.

Maya loves sitting up in that window. Usually, she's sprawled out in the window, legs jutting haphazardly out onto the windowsill, her body stretched out to cover every last millimeter of the space between the sash and the screen with her black, furry self, but in the mornings it's not unusual to see her sitting on the windowsill, staring out the window at whatever invisible things cats are prone to seeing. With the quiet, excited anticipation of a new day which seems to hang in the air and the vibrant colours of the window above her, it's a gorgeous sight. Maya, looking out on the new day, as if to see what's ahead and what's to come. Get ready world, here I come. Bring it on! I'm sure she's likely thinking of how she'd love to go catch the bird in the treetop near the window, or wondering when I'm going to feed her and Sam, but that's what the whole picture of it seems to communicate to me. Maya, looking out on the world from three stories up, seeing what lies ahead in the day to come. It speaks of contemplation and consideration and anticipation. That there's an air of excitement and looking forward to what promises the day holds says much about my optimism, I suppose. Later, once the sun rises a bit more, the glamour and specialness will wear off and the pessimism of 'oh, great, what crap will I get hit with today?' will start to poke its ugly nose around.