There was a bright, pretty, colorful sunrise over Schiller Park this morning. Even the dogs being walked and the statue of Herr Schiller appreciated it.
Captiva Island is long and narrow, running (more or less) north to south. At our location on the island it’s about a half mile wide, and the Sunset Captiva community where we are staying owns the property from the east coast to the west coast. That means it’s only a few steps in one direction to enjoy the sunset one evening, then a few steps in the opposite direction to catch the sunrise the next morning — which is what I did today.
There are a lot fewer people up to catch the sunrise, so it’s a peaceful, quiet time. As I stood dockside watching the sunrise I noticed some movement in the water and was happy to see three manatee coming to the surface to enjoy the sunrise, too. The manatee, some gulls, and some pelicans were good company as I watched the beginning of another day.
A visit to Stonington is always good for at least one gorgeous sunrise. This morning, it was as if the sun and sky decided it was time to compete with the colorful fall foliage.
Some sunrises — like the one this morning — are so breathtaking it’s worth getting up early just to enjoy them.
Typically, humans tend to prefer cloudless skies, but clouds sure add a lot of color and panache to sunrises and sunsets, don’t they?
We’re enjoying a weekend sojourn in Naples, Florida, staying with friends who have a lovely condo on a golf course, overlooking a tranquil pond. I haven’t played golf in years, since I had foot surgery, but I still appreciate the beauty of a golf course sunrise, the chirping of the birds that golf courses inevitably attract, the puttering of the groundskeeper’s cart in the distance, and the cool air in the minutes before the sun bursts over the horizon.
Now, if only spring would finally make it to Columbus . . . .
Mom and Dad bought a condo on Hutchinson Island in Stuart, Florida in the late ’80s. It became a special place for them. When Dad retired a few months after they bought the condo, they began to spend more and more time in this enclave of seagrass, windswept beaches, and crashing surf. I think Dad would gladly have moved down here full-time, but Mom wanted to keep a place in Columbus to spend time with kids and grandkids. So they compromised, as successful married couples do, and split the years equally between their condo at Suntide and a condo in Columbus.
They spent many happy years here, and made many friends. The kids and grandkids enjoyed the condo, too. It was a great place to take little children, with a sunny pool and a beach and sandcastle building and boogie board riding and shell-gathering only a few steps away. Kish, Richard, Russell and I came down here regularly, and so did my siblings and their kids. We all have strong memories of this place.
Dad died in 1997. He wanted his remains to stay here, and we honored that request. The kids got older, the visits to the condo became less frequent, and Mom wanted to spend more time in Columbus with her kids and Columbus friends. Eventually we sold the condo at Suntide, but Mom always said that after her death she wanted her remains to be brought here to be with Dad, always and forever. We promised we would do so. And this weekend all of the kids and grandkids are here to honor that promise and think once more of Mom and Dad and their little piece of paradise.
Mom and Dad and the condo are gone, but the sand and surf and sun — and memories — remain. I got up early this morning to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic, and it was as beautiful as I remembered. Mom would have liked it.