I am an early riser, not because I choose to be, but because Draco works a day job and has to be at work by 7 am. Although I've never been much of a morning person, there are a few advantages to getting up early.
One of those advantages is that I have become more aware of the sunrise.
Since getting out of school, I spent most of my adult life on second shift hours. For the majority of our relationship, it was the preferred shift for both of us. That meant that by the time I got up, the sun had been up for hours and my ride home from work was done in the moonlight.
I will never cease to be captivated by the moon, but I've come to realize that I was missing out on something without even knowing it.
This year is the first year that I've truly celebrated Imbolc and I think that it's because I was unaware of the subtle shifts in the light until now.
When I first moved here and began my morning treks to take Draco to work, we were already nearly through fall. Mornings were dark. By the time the sun kissed the horizon, I was already in the house and sunrise was judged by the growing glare on my laptop screen.
As we progressed from December to January, and now into February, I have seen the mornings growing gradually lighter going from a lighter shade of dark to now almost full light on my ride home.
Where I park my car at home faces full East and I'm often rewarded with a beautiful sunrise as I pull into the yard. In spite of the cold, I've taken to sitting in my car for a half hour or more when I get home watching the sun come up. This new ritual has given me more than I ever thought it would, making sitting in the cold more than worth it.
In addition to becoming more aware of the return of the sun to my corner of the world, I think it's made winter, my least favorite of the seasons, more bearable, and perhaps even a little enjoyable.
I'm usually still in my car, as I am this morning, when the birds begin their morning song. One moment there is nighttime silence but as the sun begins to paint the eastern sky in shades of blue, pink and orange, the birds begin greeting the day. On several occasions my car has even been surrounded by my second most favorite birds (my most favorite being hummingbirds), finches.
These tiny birds amaze me in their numbers as well as their determination. They brave the wrath of the larger Cardinals and Blue Jays to find their breakfast and I've even seen them band together to run the much larger birds off the bird feeder.
I have also had the privilege of watching the hawk, that has taken up residence at the pond, come out in search of his own breakfast. He is majestic in his hunt. Graceful, resourceful and cunning and I often watch him still out hunting as late as 8 am as the mysterious bagpipes begin to play (bagpipe music emanates from am unknown location every morning at 8 am echoing the strands of Amazing Grace through the Valley), another event that I had been unaware of.
As I watch, patches of red appear in the trees. The male Cardinals have appeared. Soon, there will be flashes of grey and brown on the ground beneath the trees as the females come out to eat under the watchful eyes of the males. The bird feeder hanging on the porch is in for a workout and I'm reminded to refill it once again. My feathered morning guests have quite the appetite in the winter when food is scarce and even though I know we really can't afford it, I'm reluctant to give up buying their seed now that I have watched them happily eating and remaining fat through the winter.
I am also reminded of how much of life I was missing out on. How much was going in my own front yard that I was unaware of. How disconnected I had become from nature and how unbalanced my nocturnal preferences had made me.
I will always have a deep love for the night and all her enchantments but I have gained a new respect for the day, and as the light returns to the world, I know that I have received a true Imbolc blessing.
Namaste,
Rayven
