It’s a glorious feeling: being woken up by just reaching the natural end of sleep and by the light – light that permeates even the heaviest curtains to whisper a good morning in my ears and still closed eyes.
I creep downstairs and put on the first coffee of the day.
But I’m called to the windows, drawn by that golden low light of early morning, spreading over the hillside opposite like honey, gilding all the houses and undergrowth with an inner glow. It’s like tea to a thirsty soul. So gorgeous, that I throw open the French doors to let more of it onto the house and my vision, even though this northwards facing slope is itself in shadow.
Perhaps it’s the contrast with yesterday evening: our hopes of a painterly sunset washed away by grey drizzle clouding the view like garden fleece. This morning the air is free of moisture and clear, so clear, as if the new day has wiped away the accumulated smears on its glasses.
There is a warm cool freshness as the year teeters on the edge between summer and autumn, the change of colour on the edges of the leaves gleaming in that same dawn radiance. And I can hear the chug and rat-a-tat-tat drumbeat and roll of boat engines in the harbour below, like a band leading the carnival parade just around the corner.
The light, the view pulls me forward onto the terrace. And I stand, coffee cup in hand, soaking it all in, noticing new and familiar details afresh: pinpoints of swaying pampas grass; a pirate flag; a little white and glass conservatory peeping out from between the greenery; the brightness of berried shrubs and dancing laundry on a line; the vividness of painted window frames against white walls; leftover raindrops from last night globuled on leaves on our patio.
Strange how it’s the low light that transforms like this – not the obvious overhead-illuminating-everything light but the catching-you-by-surprise playing-with-shadows light, that only comes at the start and end of days and years.
And I think of the mellow fragile beauty of the start and end of lives and see its echo.
The main feature of Five Minute Friday is our weekly blog link-up. Each week Kate Motaung provides a one-word prompt, and we all set our timers and write for five minutes flat, then post our writing on our respective blogs and link up our offerings on that week’s Five Minute Friday post. You can find more on this week’s prompt here: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2019/09/12/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-start/