This morning I watched the sunrise. Let me explain.
Things are tense these days. If it’s not problems at work, then there are problems at home (it is tax season). Desperate for some solitude, I escaped. I returned to the hill where I had my revelation the other day, in hopes of find that same sense of release and wholeness. This time, however, I decided to spend the night.
Late last night, I stumbled through the field in the darkness (damn flashlight died). I set up camp by laying a blanket on the ground, and then my sleeping bag on top of top. I lay down and bundled up; I love these spring days, so warm and sunny during the day, but cold and clear at night. Over the hill top, I could see the lights from the village of Alfred. The air was still and quiet. I tried to remain still and watch the stars above me. The moon rose late at night. When it came, it clearly illuminated the field, almost like a light switch had been turned on.
All night, I struggled to stay warm, constantly pulling the sleeping bag further over my head.
Though when the sun came up, the birds started to sing. I peeked out from under my bag. The moon was still out. The sun was cresting over the hill behind me. The color of the sky, well it really escapes description. I took it all in for a few moments — the birds, the moon, the color, the light — and then boroughed back under my sleeping bag. I only took the sunrise in for a few seconds, but it made the whole night worthwhile.