At The Crack Of Dawn

My grandmother was an early riser.  She liked to get up “at the crack of dawn,” she said — and she passed that trait along to me.

I like being out at dawn.  There is something special about the refraction of the light at that moment and the colors that are painted as a result.  When dawn came today, the shadows seemed deeper and richer, the pastels in the sky and clouds were softer, and the grass and trees seemed especially dewy and lush.

The crack of dawn is a magical time.

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