Sunrises: Why I Walk Mornings

I walk every morning. Four miles round‐trip. For seven‐plus years.

Through dog days, sprinkling dawns, and all the in‐betweens, I trod the sidewalks that jut east and west from our house.

Shimmering heat cooks sun, pond, and walker, too.
Peek‐a‐boo sun rises to an oddly sweet blinding light.

What began as a long‐ago journey to wellness evolved this past week into a higher calling.

Sunrise walks = healing sights, despite 80+ degree temps.

A trio of sunrises explains.

The last image there shocked, then stopped, me into awe. Absolute silence.

In 2555 days of walks (yes, I counted), I’ve n.e.v.e.r. stopped for Mother Nature. These aren’t pleasure trips I’m taking.

Leaving the house and race‐walking down the driveway, my eyes aim down at concrete and my feet speed to pounding. I’m a woman on a four‐mile mission that continued good health demands.

At least I was. Spying this profoundly beautiful sight, I nearly dropped to my knees. Instead, a verbal wave of thankyouthankyouthankyou rolled off my tongue as I stood in grateful silence, eyes tear‐filled.

In succeeding mornings, other visitors stepped forward.

Double dose of orange delight!

Seeds planted by DH bloomed for the first time. Last week. With my favorite color.

Previous years, we started with flowering plants: easier, faster. Something about retirement encourages new ventures.

Two blooms here, too. Can you find them both?

This second set of blooms burst forth two days later.

The pair of colors grabbed my attention. How did that happen from a single sack of seeds?

Upon seeing the blooms, I ran to our backyard garden. It’s filled with DH’s beloved rose bushes. A dozen of them.

I saw not blooms but this. And gasped.

Can you see why?

The glistening spider’s web spoke of little things making their way in the world, too. Then I asked: when’s the last time I saw such a perfect web? And why today?

The real synchronicity of all this comes after learning that an article I wrote about my walking and writing practice will be published this fall. In a national magazine. Oh my. This news arriving when it did reinforced the near‐holiness of all this timing.

Amid the thrill is the bigger message: sometimes, noticing leads to wonderful surprises.

It starts here: Open your Eyes.

See.

Notice.

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