Sunrise

December 26, 2013

Living where the sky meets the sea, I’ve developed a real appreciation for the sunrise. I’m hardly obsessed enough to drag my butt out of bed at 5 a.m. in summer, and it’s often too rainy in winter, but if I happen to be awake and the morning happens to be clear, I will park on the sofa in the Ocean Room and await the spectacle.

Some cloud is best; you get a dynamic pre-show ahead of the main feature. It will start with rich, rosy red clouds melting into a coral sky. Stark bare branches are sketched black against it. The water will be pearl blue. The colours will shift, lightening here, darkening there … and then a bright orange glitter will spark on the horizon. I’ll watch as the spark gradually swells to a blazing gold toffee penny. The clouds will be bathed in gilded light. The water will catch fire. It will hurt to look, but I’ll keep looking and marveling. I once believed that sunset was the grandest time of day, that twilight beat the dawn for beauty and magic. That was before I experienced what a clear morning brings.

I know what makes the sunrise so spectacular. I understand about the tilt of the earth as we orbit the sun and how shooting light through vapour can rouse every colour of the spectrum. It’s about physics and astronomy yaddayaddayadda.

I call it magic.