Morning Thanks--Bright morning light

There are surprises today, but not that many. Where weather comes from, what makes it change, and why we should expect something foul is all quite deftly prophesied by sophisticated instruments, dedicated computers, and the folks who read them. Much of the guess work about weather is just about gone.

A week ago this morning, the Weather Channel didn't mince words, nor did it sympathize. What we were about to face wasn't dangerous but dour--an entire week of windy cold and daily rain, sourpuss weather. Those dedicated computers weren't a bit dingy. All week long the wind blew hard, from whichever corner of the landscape it drew itself. All week long rain fell. The river is a foot from out of its banks. Nobody went outside.

I know, I know--nice families from down south have no more homes. They lost everything last week when giant twisters rampaged. I should not have been complaining.

Still, all week long was just a bit too much to take, "April showers and May flowers" notwithstanding. I was sick of that thick, oppressive sky, and I wasn't alone. Sunday morning held nothing of its namesake, who'd been absent-without-leave all week long.

Last night, the last clouds drifted east peaceably, thank goodness, and the sun who'd been too long out of town, set right there where it's supposed to before our very eyes. So rare was that event that I stepped out back to document the phenomenon. See that shot up top--that's last evening. Color like we hadn't seen in a week.

Some folks in the Pacific Northwest grow gills, I'm told, because rain--or at least an overcast sky--is a way of life. I once had a student from Seattle who reminisced almost rhapsodically about umbrellas, lamented not feeling one in his hands out here on the edge of the sunny Great Plains.

All fine and dandy, but give me the sun. Give me a rich, golden dawn. Give me a sky full of stars and a morning so rich with color that life seems cartoonish.

Here's this morning's "dawn's early light." I'm not about to enter it in in some photo contest, but this a.m., after a week of gloom, believe me, it was a glory to behold.

Now I can repeat ye olde adage as the blessing it's meant to be:  "April showers bring May flowers."

This morning I'm thankful for a perfectly clear dawn full of promise.