The room was quite dark and the fan was still moving a warm air about the room in an attempt to control the hot, sticky mugginess from yesterday. It was one of those days that induced a sense of lethargy. That is probably why I was wide awake, I’d done most of my sleeping on my feet the day before. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a glimmer of light, a faint glow on the horizon.
I argued with myself for a short while and the lazy me lost a good fight. How often am I awake at this hour? So I silently crept out of bed and rummaged in the half-light for my camera and slipped out the door.
The garden felt different. It was so still. There was hardly a puff of wind and the moon was doing its best to say “it is still technically night” as his light punctuated the blue-black sky, but yet there was another light. A glow in the east, stretching out across the land. It was still strangely warm as the birds struck up a chorus of unharmonious chirping and squawking, that somehow seemed to come together as a beautiful sound, punctuated by the crow of roosters near and far.
In the moon light the garden has a mystical air. The romanesco looked positively ghostly, the flowers were balled up tight and dark shadows were cast from the peas. It was as though I was intruding and shouldn’t have been there.
As the glow strengthened and the daylight began to rob the night of its grip, the temperature began to noticeably drop. I felt it in my fingers. A light fog began to gather in the distance, following the lines of the drains. The plants began to glow, like they were excited for what was to come. The source was coming, growth could begin again when the brightness poured deep into the cells.
While I was distracted by the way the soft light was playing off a fragile yet perfect spider web, the sun arrived. It happens so quickly. One moment its presence is alluded to and the next moment it is there, hovering above the surface of the earth radiating a golden glow unseen at other times of the day. It holds promise in its face. It will be another glorious, hot summer day. But it won’t just be another day – it will be today, full of it’s own spirit with wonderful things about to unfold. Starting with the flowers.
As the sun reached out and touched each plant one by one, illuminating them with a warm glow as if painting each one with a brush, I took one last look across the garden before the light became the harsh, brash one I usually woke up to, and I snuck back into a quiet mostly sleeping house, still warm from the day before, and an aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapped me in its comforting embrace.
Today is going to be a great day, there is so much to be done.
Come again soon – see the results of today’s efforts, fuelled by such a delightful start.
Sarah the Gardener : o )
For a look into the heat of the day, check out my latest video: