Sunrise this morning, the light is golden, just magical. Sunset is the same. I can just about touch the light, it’s something else.
Looking west from the Story Hill this morning, fog along the Mary River and the ephemeral golden light of Sunrise. If I could bottle that light… how rich would I be. Rich to me, could be poor to you, life is an enigma.
Top of the Story Hill first thing today. I can’t quite catch the light. After feeding the wild birds and a cup of black coffee I sat down and wrote up my log.