Sunday, January 09, 2022

Slowly, like a Hibernating Bear Disturbed by Those Waterbirds

When the early morning is below freezing, I see the sunrise through the trees to the east fighting its way forward like some sleepy and confused bear wondering why it must get up so early. The Sun starts its morning fire which looks as if it is struggling to ignite. It grows into a baby pink and the clouds get their bottoms slapped with it to let us know that Old Man Sun is trying to warm the winter side of the earth.

I try to encourage the Old Man with a smile.  The winter shadows cling along with the crusty snow that outlines the skeletons of the trees.  

Eventually, the sun hits the dark bark of the big oak tree and I feel like I am seeing some rare and beautiful episodic painting that lasts only a few minutes and then melts into day,

Here, at last, my side of the earth is awakening. 

I have been sleeping on and off all night.  There are four or five pods of Canadian geese that shelter in our finger of the river.  They erupt in cries and cackles periodically.  Loud and arguing through the darkness of night, perhaps over whether they are far enough from the edge of the river to avoid that beautiful rust-colored fox that lives somewhere in the ravine.

Every year in the darkest of the night it sounds like a wild frat party across the stillness of winter.  For Canadians, they are not all that well-behaved, until the sun makes their white breasts glow like searchlights, and then they get quiet and start their quick regimented paddle to the more open river.

There are four Mourning Doves that hang out near the bowl of seed and the heated birdbath on my deck.  Some winters they just wait on the edge of the bath and enjoy the warmer air. They do not coo at this time of year.  They are patient and can wait for their turn at the food, although I have seen them argue among themselves as to who will get that last sunflower seed.  I do not see them chase others of a different kind.  Maybe because they know we make them the symbol of peace.  I think that dove above is flirting.

Well, now that bear is fully awake, I need a second cup of coffee.  Thanks for reading.


  1. So good to see you here, and I enjoyed your poetic prose about your morning. It's much more interesting than my rituals!

  2. A beautiful post, sun on the trees warms the heart.

    I wonder if doves have a flock boss. I have seen them together mostly in peace. I've also seen one dove that is crazed to scoot others away from the seed. It is quite funny.

  3. I am reading this as my own sunrise colors have faded through the curtain of trees that mostly obscures the eastern sky.
    This is a beautiful post, in poetic words and photos. Thank you.

  4. You created such beautiful images, Tabor. I was there with you, smiling the entire time. Thank you.

  5. I like this post as you show and tell how the day unfolds.

  6. That's a wonderful description of sunrise in winter, and lovely photos to go with it.

  7. Good personification, description and poetry. You can see a lot and appreciate it. There is not much to see and appreciate in our townhouse view, but I can appreciate reading posts like yours. Great post,

  8. I rarely see the day begin, just not an early riser, so I do enjoy your images. The white wing doves that have moved into this ecosystem have chased off most the mourning doves but the smaller inca doves are still here.


Glad to hear from you once again. I really like these visits. Come sit on this log and tell me what you are thinking.