Sitting on a front porch visiting last week, we agreed we never tired of watching the play of light on the hills.  Yesterday was a dark and cloudy day, with cold rain from time to time.  But at sunset, the view from the dining room where my computer currently lives was haunting.  The bare maples were lacy black against the lavender sky, and through them a thread of rose above the blue-gray hills on the horizon. The rose swelled up into the blue and then in moments had faded away.

I love the light inside our house, too.  One of my rules for retirement, after decades of rising in the dark,  was that I would not get up before daylight.  Our bed is placed so  the sunrise can be seen from the window most of the year.  These days, it has passed from one window and not made it to the next, so even on clear days, I can first see it only indirectly, past the French door, shining on the wall in the sewing room.

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