Every morning as the earth turns to meet the sun, there is a miracle in the garden. Life itself is a miracle and everything about it, but seeing the miraculous transformation from darkness, blurry colors and indistinct shapes into the sharpness of daylight never ceases to amaze me. The volunteer seedling we have been coddling, Heuchera ‘Faire Piecrust’ greets the new day with the Japanese maple, Acer palmatum var. dissectum ‘Crimson Queen’ joining in.
The garden is full of shadows and spotlights. Watching the illumination slowly move across the sloping terrain is better than any movie or television program.
Hues become brilliant with the help of the slanting rays of the sun.
I revel in it, standing, sitting or kneeling with the camera clicking as the magic plays out before the lens.
It is humbling and exhilarating.
Spent blossoms of Sanguisorba become masterpieces of high art.
A weedy path lined with blue fescue becomes an airplane runway, with sparklers waving on each side, directing the eye to the darkness at the end, waiting to be lit up.
Bolted red mustard gone to flower, ready to be pulled and tossed onto the pile in the compost bin gets a stay of execution for one more day.
It knows my weakness. I am a pushover for the visual gallery wrought by morning light.
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