a forest at night is surreal. you know that you're out-of-doors, but the surrounding trees and leaves lends to the perception of being inside. the torch lights uneven hallways and you follow the path that is lit before you.
we walked between porous walls created by tree trunks, branches, and foliage.
until the sky began to change.
the stars began to lose their brilliance as our dark backdrop began to diffuse into that cold morning color. the dark leafy walls seemed to open outward. the flashlights and torches were shut off one by one.
though our conversations had become more muted from our initial start, the approaching sun seemed to reset all of our circadian rhythms into an alert daytime mode. we pressed forward, eagerly looking for the right spot to greet the morning blaze.
"over here! over here!" called our guide from far ahead.
we raced towards his voice and suddenly paused at the edge of the mountain.
a horizon of mountains; dark crinkled velvet, rising and falling. the early blue fog filled the valleys between and further back. the craggy peaks below us peeked through the fog. they looked like islands in the sky.
eyes met the air between the earth and the clouds. my breath caught.
why would a yellow sun create streaks of pink, blue, orange, and indigo?
yet somehow it did. it does.
inexplicable. i have watched this daily miracle too few times in the past some--11,000 days since i've begun roaming the planet.
the colors before me shifted like slowly moving flames.
a moment. a painting.
i remembered that a friend and i watched the sky change colors like this every morning for 4 months. we watched the sun bring the world to life for an entire semester. this was about 10 years ago.
i will watch this more often. i promise.
and then it was daytime. the landscape rippled with rich greens and browns. the cleanest blue. the air tasted of breathing trees.
i will taste this more often. i promise.
thank You thank You thank You.
we were 3 hours in. we had about 10 more to go.
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