I drove to work yesterday morning, headed east as the sun was waking up, as I usually do this time a year. The wispy clouds were pink against cerulean skies, as far as the eyes could see. My morning commute at sunrise, often makes me wish for more leisure time with my camera. It makes being up so early a bit less painful. I noticed the fields alongside the road deep in fog. There is something about fog that speaks to my imagination. I do not find it creepy. (Though, I dislike driving in the pea soup variety) I do not envision Jack the Ripper. I imagine, instead, myself strolling along on dew covered grass in the quiet early morning. The fog swirling in my wake. I have had many opportunities to enjoy the solitude of a foggy morning. Usually, while others slept after LARPing into the wee hours. This being the case, I never had a camera at hand. On the weekends, I can't seem to manage jumping out of bed, grabbing the camera and heading in search of foggy sunrises. I have seldom heard the forecast for fog, and it, and sunrises, are a time limited opportunity.
Thinking about those early mornings on LARP weekends, other memories surface.
Walking on grass, so frost covered, that it crackles with every step.
A suspension bridge sparkling with frost, as early morning sun invades through the trees. That one ended up in injury, as frost covered suspension bridges are slippery, and the cables are sharp if you grab them trying not to fall. I shredded both hands. Strange how it still remains a favorite memory.
I woke, in an open air cabin, to several inches of snow. Made my way to the "tavern" and made coffee. I sat on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, and watched the world wake up. The snow undisturbed by man, sparkled in the soft early light. Down the hill, deer made their way around a pond. No sounds of traffic or people. Nothing to disturb the solitude. It felt like I was the only person on earth.
Sometime soon, I'll have to write about my late night memories.
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