DK Photo @ 7:27 am this morning. Sunrise on Christmas Day. 13° F, feels like -2° F. 7:20 to 7:30 am. December 25, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning’s walk here: 1) Frozen Seagrass Photos, 2) Twilight photos, 3) Sunrise photos.
…if the world was on fire, you might as well burn bright.
— Celeste Ng, Our Missing Hearts: A Novel (Penguin Press, October 4, 2022)
Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 38° F. 6:55 am. October 21, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. For more photos from this mornings walk at Cove Island Park, click here.
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The answers were nearly always – light.
Light.
There.
The quick glow of a fierce sensation.
— Maddie Mortimer, Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies (Picador; March 31, 2022)
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and I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow
— Naomi Shihab Nye, from “The Words Under the Words,” Words Under the Words: Selected Poems.
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Stony silence as we cross the bridge into Manhattan [Cove Island Park] and the streets [paths] begin slipping past. Every moment of your life brings you to the moment you’re experiencing now. And now. And now. I’ve never have been on the streets [paths] this early [many times], predawn, and the driver [DK] agrees that it’s eerie and perfect.
— Jo Ann Beard, Festival Days (Little, Brown & Company, March 16, 2021) (DK-EDITED)
Photos: DK @ Daybreak. 5:04 & 5:15 am, August 5, 2022. 76° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. Other photos from this morning here (landscape) and here (swans).
George & Grace @ Daybreak. 5:35 a.m. July 3, 2022. 72° F. Cove Island Park, CT. More pictures from this morning’s walk here.
Notes:
The classical elements are earth, water, air and fire, and this old idea feels right at a sensory level. I start to think that a combination of two is primal and powerful: rain on soil, fire in the wind, sunlight on stone. A combination of three is poetry: the sea washing the moonlight into the cliff, a rainbow.
— Amy Liptrot, The Instant (Canongate Books, March 3, 2022)
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I dream through a wordless, familiar place.
The small boat of the day sails into morning,
past the postman with his modest haul, the full trees
which sound like the sea, leaving my hands free
to remember. Moments of grace. Like this.
— Carol Ann Duffy, from Moments of Grace in “Mean Time” (Pan Macmillan; January 1, 2018)
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Gökotta (n., Swed.)
“a dawn picnic to hear the first birdsong”; the act of rising in the early morning to watch the birds or to go outside to appreciate nature.
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Live & Learn 