Small Details in Gold

 

It seemed far too early to wake, and I knew I had already missed the sunrise, but when I opened reluctant eyes and noticed my firstborn stomping through the house, I suggested we take the dog for a walk. 

We stepped through the garden gate at 5.54 and headed downhill, across town and to the beginning of the rail trail on the far side. As we left the town outskirts I was already in raptures over the mist, the light, the early morning freshness. My son was already asking if we'd nearly walked an hour. 

Mist clouded in pale pockets on the plane between the low surrounding hills and as we rounded corners new views opened up. We had seen the land from different angles when driving along the highway that wound out of sight slightly above us, but walking slowly (very slowly as I stopped and started to take photos and our dog waited patiently and my son waited impatiently) it seemed entirely new. 

I don't think I ever noticed the beauty of grasses, or how many there are, until the last few years. Possibly because this region is so dry the grasses are more of a feature, and thus I focus more, possibly I was just exceptionally unobservant. The different curls and spikes, shivers and outfalls enchanted me. In the early morning golden light the added layer of the golden grasses seemed abundantly luxurious. 

I tried not to dwell on the fact that the season is presently spring - we are only just heading into Summer and our surrounds are already dry, the earth hard, the dams near empty. 

Instead, I observed, tried to capture, the way the light fell, caught, danced upon the dew, the spiders webs, the gold grass stalks, constantly changing as I moved, as the sun rose. 

The days now leave me battered, we lurch from one small, or not so small, drama to the next, but this golden morning, these captured moments of exuberant light, will help sustain.