I HAVEN’T put a sunrise shot here in many a moon, unseen or otherwise.
The Gods of Rain blew and huffed last night as we turned out the lights in the bedroom, heading toward dreams, a sweet soundtrack.
And now, just after 7 a.m., it’s 58 degrees in late June, likely a bit better than wherever you are. Mountaintop living is good.
The church bell on the nearby plaza, as I write this, is clanging away for something or other, or maybe just for pleasure. It seems to do that. And there goes an explosion of fireworks. Don’t they sleep in on Sunday? And there’s music coming out of some distant loudspeaker. Get outa bed!
I’m already up and about.
Here’s how it looks in the other direction. Well, a few minutes ago.