Like the moon in the morning — all firmament, beautiful, about to vanish.


Notes:

  • Post Title: “The way a deer emerges from a thicket is the opposite of a wound. Like the moon in the morning — all firmament, beautiful, about to vanish. Each morning I walk out my apartment & wonder what is going to become of me.— Devin Kelly, “Deer on the Side of an American Highway,” published in drDOCTOR
  • DK @ Daybreak. 4:58 am, May 20, 2022. 52° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this mornings walk here.

Slowly…

Slowly, dawn was breaking.

Streaks of colour – peach bellinis, orange martinis, strawberry margaritas, frozen negronis – streamed above the horizon, east to west.

Elif Shafak, 10 Minutes 38 Seconds in This Strange World (Bloomsbury Publishing; September 24, 2019)


Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 5:52 to 6:35 am, November 9, 2021. 46° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Lightly Child, Lightly.

In Vienna there are shadows. The city is black and everything is done by rote. I want to be alone. I want to go to the Bohemian Forest. May, June, July, August, September, October. I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at moldy garden fences, I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, enjoy wet, green-blue valleys in the evening, sense goldfish glinting, see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people, old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers. And then I shall shape things so beautifully: fields of colour…

Egon Schiele, as quoted by Reinhard Steiner in Egon Schiele, 1890-1918: The Midnight Soul of the Artist.


Notes:

  • Photo: Angelika Horschlager, “we made no sound…and deep in the forest we get lost.” Taken in Lichtenau im Muhlkries (Austria)
  • Quote via The Vale of Soul-Making
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Lightly Child, Lightly.

…And I should mention the light

which falls through the big windows this time of day

italicizing everything it touches…

Billy Collins, from “Old Man Eating Alone in a Chinese Restaurant” in Ballistics: Poems (Picador; June 18, 2009)

 


Notes:

  • Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 6:30 am, October 7, 2021. 55° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Bewilderment

Forget the critics.  Read this book.

Richard Powers, Bewilderment: A Novel (W. W. Norton & Company, September 21, 2021)


NY Times Book Review: “In ‘Bewilderment,’ Richard Powers Smothers Nature With Piety.

Lightly Child, Lightly.

The mind’s eye had two bafflements: coming out of the light and going into it.

—  Richard Powers, Bewilderment: A Novel (W. W. Norton & Company, September 21, 2021)


Notes:

  • NY Times Book Review: “In ‘Bewilderment,’ Richard Powers Smothers Nature With Piety.
  • Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 6:10 to 6:46 am, September 22, 2021. 72° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Lightly Child, Lightly.

Soft the dove-hued shadows mingle,
Color fades, sound droops to sleep.
Life and motion melt to darkness
Swaying murmurs far and deep.
But the night moth’s languid flitting
Stirs the air invisibly:
Oh, the hour of wordless longing;
I in all, and all in me.

Twilight—tranquil, brooding twilight,
Course through me, serene and smooth;
Quiet, languid, fragrant twilight,
Flood all depths, all sorrows soothe,
Every sense in dark and cooling
Self-forgetfulness immerse,—
Grant that I may taste extinction
In the dreaming universe.

Fyodor Tyutchev, from Twilight; (Translated by Avrahm Yarmolinsky). Written in 1835.

Notes:

  • Photo: DK @ Twilight. 5:45 am, September 12, 2021. 67° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (Yes, this shot is the dawn side of Twilight, not in alignment with this beautiful poem)
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

T.G.I.F.: Waking the pond for another day

On the far side of the pond, an egg-yolk sun rises out of the dense tree line like a hot air balloon, slow, graceful. It hovers, suspended for a moment, before breaking free of its tethers—the break of dawn. In that instant, the smallest breeze shirrs the water, waking the pond for another day.

Miranda Cowley Heller, The Paper Palace: A Novel (Riverhead Books, July 6, 2021)


Notes:

the sounds of blood and air

Dawn. There’s no sunrise, no birdsong.

Light seeps over the water, through the branches. The sky is lying on the loch, filling the trees, heavy in the spaces between the pine needles, settling between blades of grass and mottling the pebbles on the beach. Although there’s no distance between cloud and land, nowhere for rain to fall, it is raining; the sounds of water on leaves and bark, on roofs and stones, windows and cars, become as constant as the sounds of blood and air in your own body.

You would notice soon enough, if it stopped.

Sarah Moss, “the sounds of blood and air” in Summerwater: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, January 12, 2021)


Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 4:56 am, July 19, 2021. 70° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Sunday Morning


More from this morning @ DK @ Daybreak. 4:50 to 5: 40 am. June 27, 2021.  Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT

And then I feel the sun itself…

And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire —
clearly I’m not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.

— Mary Oliver, ”The Buddha’s Last Instruction,” from House of Light.


Notes:

How you can fall in love with the light.


Notes:

  • Photo: DK, Daybreak. Jan 22, 2021. 6:56 to 7:32 am. 32° F feels like 23° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford CT.
  • Post Title: “Of all the things I wondered about on this land, I wondered the hardest about the seduction of certain geographies that feel like home — not by story or blood but merely by their forms and colors. How our perceptions are our only internal map of the world, how there are places that claim you and places that warn you away. How you can fall in love with the light.” — Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky (Pantheon; July 16, 2002) (via exhaled-spirals)

Hear dawn take her first breath

This was also the month (January 1949) Mr. Crockett famously rounded up his charges to watch the sun rise over Babson Park and recite poetry. Sylvia wrote, “The early hour was so that everyone could hear ‘dawn take her first breath’ and thereby reach a higher ‘kinship with infinity.’

— Heather Clark, Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath (Knopf; October 27, 2020)


Notes:

  • Plath was 16 years old at the time she wrote this.
  • Photographs: DK @ Daybreak. Jan 5, 2021. 6:43 to 7:20 am. 33° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford CT. More photos from this morning here.

Saturday Morning


DK: Saturday, Sept 26, 2020. 6:44 am. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Breakfast

Breakfast. Bird catches Fish. Crab holding on to the fish tail. Double Jeopardy! September 12, 2020. 5:35 & 5:45 am. 60° F. Winds: Gusty. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Saturday Morning


Twilight. August 15, 2020. 5:40 to 5:50 am. 70° F. Humidity 74%. Wind: 8 mph. Gusts: 16 mph. Cloud Cover: 16%. The Cove, Stamford, CT. (And for those tracking the lonely Swan, link here.)

Sunday Morning

  


Daybreak. 4:44, 5:13 & 5:48 am. July 12, 2020. 72° F.  @ 4:30 a.m.: Humidity 83%. Wind: 10 mph. Gusts: 21 mph. Cloud Cover: 4%. Weed Avenue & Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT

Saturday Morning

4-57


Daybreak. Egret. 4:57 & 4:59 am. June 27, 2020. 67° F. Humidity 81%. Wind: 2 mph. Gusts: 3 mph. Cloud Cover: 29%. Weed Avenue, Stamford, CT

The day broke around me like a cool dream

The day broke around me like a cool dream. Sea; sand; a sky that melts into the sea — a landscape of misty pastels with a look about it being continuously on the point of melting.

~ Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber in “The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories” (Vintage Digital; October 31, 2012)


Notes:

  • Photo: DK – Daybreak. 4:58 & 5:00 am. June 17, 2020. 58° F. Wind: 5 mph. Gusts: 8 mph. Cloud Cover: 19%.  Weed Ave, Stamford, CT.
  • Quote via andrasteiax

TGIF: Morning Swim


Daybreak. Mallard & her ducklings, in formation. 5:53 am. June 12, 2020. 67° F. Wind: 4 mph. Gusts: 8 mph. Cloud Cover: 73%. Special Weather Watch: Areas of dense fog locally early this morning. Weed Ave, Stamford, CT.

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