Long Hollow

Belle was just a shadow against the lingering night, but I spotted her looking in hopefully from the deck through the French doors. It's still too dark to walk, I told her.

But she stayed. I could just make out her tail, now, like a clock pendulum: wag…wag…wag.  

I gave in and headed out the door, grabbing my camera on the way even though I knew it would be too dark for photos.

Once again, I was glad I gave in to Belle's silent pleading. There weren't any tarantulas… no deer darted across our path…the sunrise wasn't dramatic…but it was a spectacular dawn, nonetheless.

A soft morning…a watercolor sky…a brisk breeze that charged down the Hollow, splashing my face and playing with my hair. I tried capturing it with my camera, but mornings like this are just too vibrant to catch and hold still in a photograph… 

This is the best I could do. Don't you think the clouds make the sky look like a watercolor painting?

Later, I sat on the deck as Belle and Max ate, watching the sunlight and wind play with the trees; their leaves shimmied and shook, glistening in the sunlight…the Hollow had become Nature's dance floor, the trees wore gold and sequins, and the sunlight was a disco ball!

Ah, Belle. Thank you. 

This sunrise was from two days ago. If it weren't for Belle's pleading puppy dog eyes at the door, I would have missed it. You'd think she wouldn't have to beg anymore, right?

I love autumn mornings.