Another sunrise, and a really pretty one, with the sky to the west all in shades of coral and turquoise and mauve. When I walked around to the front of the cottage, the view upriver was spectacular, a great swath of salmon-pink that seemed to arch over the water above the leaning sycamores.
"Don't you get tired of living out here with the same old boring view?" a city-dwelling visitor once asked.
No, I don't…because no two days are ever the same. There's always a new sky, new colors, new pattern, new light. Each morning dawns differently. Each day unfolds in its own unique manner, special because it happens only once and will never be repeated.
Now the dawn colors are gone, replaced by golden sunlight which varnishes the tops of the sycamores on the island across from the cottage and sets the feathery crest of the pileated woodpecker yammering and hammering his way up the corner hackberry to glowing fiery red.
I'm battered and aching in pain from another all-day session of wood-splitting yesterday—but I'm excited, too, because there's a brand new day ahead, and I have a first-class view!