As Alaska creeps at a snails pace from winter to the first subtle signs of encroaching spring in fits and starts, the steadily increasing daylight is a constant we can count on.
The beginning of April, in that respect, is one of my favorite times of year. Watching dawn steal slowly across the sky starts my day with a peace and tranquility very little else can match.
Actually, I should admit that March is almost better, since I’m already awake, with coffee in hand, when the show starts. Then again, once I have my coffee, the distractions of the day can quickly pull my attention off the beauty outside my bedroom window.
For the next fleeting week or two, the first rays of dawn will be filtering across my valley just as I am first opening my eyes, which for me is around 7:00 am most mornings. Not that I’m usually functional that early, but I am awake.
We really are talking about a fleeting period of time. On April 1st, sunrise occurred at 7:18 am. This morning, April 5th, sunrise was 7:05 am. By the end of April, the sun will be on its way up by 5:45 am – and at that point I won’t likely see sunrise again until next fall! ☀️
For now though, I love laying in bed, still snuggled deep under thick blankets against the morning chill, Ronni curled tightly in a warm ball at my side, and watching the first rosy glow light the sky to the east.
I have a large, north-facing window and sliding glass doors in my 2nd story bedroom, so the view from my bed out over the Matanuska valley is awesome and mostly unobstructed this time of year. It is just so peaceful on mornings like this.
Come join me as a new morning arrives.
Dawn begins when the soft pink light to the east against the dark midnight blue overhead begins to bring definition to the bare birch branches just visible beyond my window. With this rosy backdrop, I can see the trees are swaying ever so slightly in a light breeze. It’s hypnotizing, like being in an enchanted forest. No longer night, but not yet day.
On a clear dawn morning like this one, spears of pale yellow soon pierce the rosy hue, combining to turn the eastern sky and snow-covered mountains across the valley a softly glowing salmon color.
As dawn streaks across the valley in pastel hues, the darkness overhead is slowly pushed back, replaced by the pale blue of a new day.
I love watching this transformation from night into day. From start to finish, it probably takes about an hour this time of year.
The pinks and salmons linger longest on the mountain tops, with my view of them glowing warmly through the trees. It is against this early morning gleam that the first chickadees and nuthatches arrive for breakfast on my upper-deck bird feeders.
By now, coffee is calling my name and Ronni is ready to head outside for her morning constitutional.
By the time these two essential morning rituals are accomplished, the transformation from dawn to day is complete. The sky is a brilliant blue, the mountains sparkling white in contrast.
Birds are darting through the trees, full of joy after being released from the night’s enforced quietude. They happily bicker over spots at the suet bar and exuberantly perform aerial antics as they swoop to and from the tree line.
I’m dressed now in sweats and a T-shirt, coffee mug in hand, propped against a bolster on my [made] bed rather than in it, with a soft plushy throw over my legs. Rhonda has acquired a chew toy (one of her new birthday chews, already showing signs of wear) and is holding down the throw – and my legs.
Across the bed, Qiviut intently watches “bird TV”, hoping, I’m sure, that a bird will eventually make it through the window glass. Dream on, pretty boy.
It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful sunny day. Temperatures should be in the upper 20s. Not exactly spring yet, but hey … we’re heading the right direction!
Remember to seek out the joyful moments in life! I was lucky enough, today, to find one at the very start of the day!