IN THE PINK!

Today we are “in the pink”—at least that’s how we began the morning’s first minutes. Odd as it may sound, most mornings I keep track of the day’s arrival by actually looking west, across the river, where ranks of white-barked sycamore lean over the water in thoughtful vigilance. Their high tops, intricately interlaced like the finest pale-ivory netsuke carvings, catch the initial light. Typically, this reflected light appears as a rich golden varnish. Today, however, the watchful trees seemed to be blushing—their normal warm yellow replaced by a light rosé. I half-arose, stretched over the breakfast table, and craned around to where I could look back to the east. What a sight! Above the hill, dawn’s earliest light was slipping through the tangled branches of the walnut and hackberry along the drive, shimmering like a sensuous nymph in shiny pink satin. The hues were soft but sure, not at all weak or washed out, and of a shade that reminded me of an ancient rosebush that rambled along the front fence at my parents’ home. A dawn glowing pink and flushed as a healthy newborn fresh from the night’s dark womb. A dawn bursting with potential and possibility. A dawn the color of cotton candy…and just as sweet a treasure.