The dark early morning air was cold. Sticks cracked and leaves rustled beneath our feet as I followed you through the woods. You in your blue hooded sweatshirt and knee-high moccasins, and me in my grey sweater and jeans. And both of us with steaming coffee mugs in our hands.
I thought the view of the horizon was beautiful once we reached your garden, but you said no, we were going to a better spot. I wasn't sure if you would rather have been alone, but I was glad of your company.
We walked along paths I had never been on before -- stooping under vines and brambles, and avoiding spider webs. Climbing over the barbed wire fence, we went on further, our path taking us closer to the highway as we walked on.
Finally we reached it -- the better spot. We stood at the edge of the trees beside the highway. From there we could see two small hills, and between the hills the sky was growing brighter. A smoky blue-grey haze covered the trees on the edge of the chalk blue sky. Where the sky seemed to end, an orange light began to glow.
I sat amid the pine needles and soft grass, while you checked out potential spots for growing winter squash. My hands were stiff and cold, but the coffee was hot, and I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets. The steaming coffee made our breath all the more visible.
The morning air would have been quiet and still, but for the cars and buses and trucks speeding past on the highway. I wondered if they saw us. I wondered if they knew we were only here to watch the sunrise.
The orange glow got brighter, and stretched higher. The blue of the sky lightened. You got up and said we would go on a little further before going back. We walked on through the woods, walking on fallen trees, and finding new spots to watch the sunrise.
You pointed out plants and trees, and picked a piece of wild ginger for me. When we finally turned back, my hands were cold, the sky was getting brighter, and I wished those moments, early in the morning before the busy-ness of the day began, could last forever.
We once again walked across fallen trees and carefully picked thorny branches out of our way. We climbed over the fence, and reached your garden once again. The sky was quite bright now. The sun was not visible yet, but we knew it was coming. You picked some raspberries, and I picked a zinnia. We
walked up the hill to the house, our coffee mugs empty.
It was a beautiful morning. Thanks for letting me share it with you.