Magical mornings

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It was a luminous dawn, the world blanketed in a thick cocoon of frost against the darkness and silence of a newborn morning. The sun rose, pale and gold, strewing a million diamonds on the tarmac path; setting a fire in the heart of ice. There is a magic in the morning light that seems to bathe even the hard edges of winter in a soft glow. Where the light streams, its gentle warmth sends showers of tiny droplets glinting to earth, yet where the shadows hang heavy, the frost lingers, clinging to the day with hoary fingers.

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Looking down, splashes of unexpected colour stand out against the whitened world… the scarlet stalks of ivy and bramble, the earth tones of autumnal remains and the vibrant shades of the evergreens. Details, hitherto unnoticed, leap to the attention, thrown into relief by the blank canvas of the frost. Shapes unseen are highlighted; fractal patterns that seem to hold the story of creation in their humble familiarity.

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Looking up, the birds are waking, stretching chilled wings against the morning. I wonder at them… their delicate frames and fragile bones kept safe through the frozen night by no more than a feather. So tiny, so light, yet they can fly against the storm winds and through the battering of the rains. This morning I watched the sparrows as they woke, fluffing their plumage as we might shake an eiderdown. Such busy little birds, clinging to the smallest perch to watch the day begin.

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Light strikes the trees, turning them golden as the sun rises higher, painting the doves pink and waking the jackdaws in a flurry of wings. On the low roof the frost crystals turn the little clumps of moss into the hollow hills and forests of a faery landscape where imagination walks, painting tales of otherworlds to be explored. Even the cars are clad in jewelled fur that makes them look like the surface of some fantastic planet.

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I love mornings like this. They truly are magical, both to see and to ponder, when the delicate overlay of a winter frost changes everything and yet the beauties revealed by the frost are always there, just waiting for us to see them. We are blind to the familiar world, habituated to its presence. It takes change to open our eyes and hearts to what is already there waiting for us. In this way such a morning reflects the journey of the seeker; turning to face the light of being and seeing that no matter how far the journey may lead him, no matter how many changes may come, his destination has always been a place he never left.

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28 thoughts on “Magical mornings

  1. Beautifully observed and penned, Sue. The hushed stillness at dawn, the crystalline world touched by early light– it is a gift of magic for those who can see and appreciate it. x


  2. A week or more ago, I woke up to a glittering, still, winter wonderland – – I gazed out at trees dusted in white & silver, but not so heavily dusted, they were in danger of branches breaking from heavy, wet, melting, weight – – a few mornings later, I awoke to a wash of beautiful reds, blues, purples, oranges gracing the eastern horizon as the sun came up and a new day dawned – – both times, a voice inside of my head said, “go get the camera’ and another one quickly chimed up and said, “no, dummy, drink your coffee and drink in the view, fully, and revel in the pure, simple beauty of it…” and then yet another voice said, “but I haven’t posted in a while and pictures and my awe of the beauty might be a nice post to update my blog with….” – – and….welll – – – I drank my coffee while my eyes & heart drank in the beauty and nothing got captured in a way to share the beauty with others. – – So ….my bad! But I do so admire those who get things done in a timely fashion!!! ❤


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