For the past six months, I have been blessed with a home that offers views of the most spectacular sunsets – vast vistas of orange, pink, red and gold, views which almost made me believe that the sun was fighting bloody battles to avoid sinking below the horizon. I was worried that I would miss these views each night, and feeling a little deprived at the purple hour, until I made the conscious decision, yesterday, to rise earlier and watch the sun come up.

 

Sunrise is so much gentler than sunset. The light is softer, hints of silver instead of the glamour of gold, and it seems to play with your senses, rather than overwhelm them. Instead of simply watching the sun set, I felt as if I was being invited to join it as it kissed and caressed the morning, ran its fingers through the leaves and over the grass, and could hear it whisper “wake up, wake up, for there is joy in store today”.

 

I am reminded, again, that, sometimes, what we most admire, is flash and gilt, soon over, and what truly counts are the quiet treasures.

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