I had to leave early a few days ago. I drove off before the sun was up. What a magical time to be travelling.
I used to live permanently in Brisbane. The last house I live in permanently was located really close to the intersection of Juliette Street and Annerley Road near the PA Hospital. Both these roads are main distribution roads. The PA is a HUGE hospital. The traffic is constant. Day and night. Always stopping then revving up to start.
I could see the traffic lights from my bedroom. I could hear the trucks’ compression breaks. I could hear all the traffic – constantly noisy. The generator of the cool room of the shop next door kicked in constantly. The ambulances came passed with sirens blaring. The rescue helicopter choppered in to land. Always noise pollution.
My view was electricity wires and roofs and concrete and construction muddle and traffic and congestion.
The smell was almost slightly tainted with pollution – which you got used to after a while but being so close to the road it was always there. It lingers.
The feeling was rushed and busy and stressed and racing the lights and not letting that person in in front of me and coffee on the fly and doing mascara at the lights and watching the truck in the rear view mirror and signs and people and cars and getting kids to school then chasing green lights to work and being tired and beating death (the ambos and chopper).
This was far removed from my early morning “rush” at The GO.
I woke up before the alarm. I enjoyed that lovely early morning time when the first wrens are starting to twitter when its still a little dark. I can now tell roughly how long it is to dawn by the birds. They are the only sound. They have their tempo – when they like to rise. They all start in a rough order. Except Garth the rooster. He can start at 2am or 4 or 5!!
At this dawning time it is quiet – sometimes silent between wren cheeps. I love listening to the silence.
I was excited to get up. I love travelling. Even to old places. I was going to my home town along familiar roads. But every time is different.
Each journey out the door is an adventure of discovery!
As I drove down the track to the front gate, I took in the beauty of the property.
There was some mist settled in the gully blotting out the details of the dam which I know is there. The cows were peacefully grazing. Moving slowly from tussock to tussock. No stress. No pace. No brakes.
Magic Mountain was starting to get its detail as the light increased. The sun hits Magic Mountain first. It’s the highest point on the property. I could see the big trees on the ridge to the north. Seemingly tall and black in this light. Details blurred.
One of the most spectacular elements of the morning though is the dew. As the weather deepens into winter, the dew is forming more heavily in the mornings. It won’t be long until we drop below 0ºC and the dew will freeze into a picturesque white.
But this morning was still above freezing so the dew was hanging on the grass. Glancing across the paddocks they looked almost white. Blushes of straw yellow topped with white – the light on the dew reflecting white. And with the undulation of the land the white changed its hue so the contours of the land are still obvious yet the colour seems to be only white – unless you stop to look.
I stopped to open the gate and had to bend down and take in the beauty of the dew. Each grass raceme (see my earlier post about Introduction To Grasses), the bit that we commonly call the seed head, was covered with dew. The stems as well. The weight of the water on the smaller plants was obviously heavy for the plant. The grasses bent over with the weight making them appear like tiny chandeliers. The light passing through the tiny prism of water, magnifying the world, making the dew appear to be almost suspended in air.
Bending down I could see each tiny droplet. The dew hung on the grasses without discrimination. All grasses where magically bejewelled. Each stalk looked like a crown of glistening jewels. Tiny, tiny ones. And oh soooooo beautiful.
The light was intensifying – penetrating the dew drops and refracting upside down projections. The dew reflected the sun making one point on each drop, on each tiny drop on the end of each plant part (racemes and leaves and flowers), a reflection of the sun. These dazzling points looked like diamonds sparkling.
As I focused on my one piece of grass, it seemed as if literally it was covered in tiny droplet-shaped diamonds. Each sparkling and worth a million dollars. It was memorising. Each blade of grass another sculpture of light and grass. True beauty in the tiny detail of each droplet.
It reminded me how gems right under my nose can be hidden from me because I are so busy looking at the road ahead. It reminded me to take the time to look around and see – truly see – the details and the beauty that I have with me. It reminded me of Paulo Coelho’s Alchemist travelling to distant lands when his treasure was actually buried at home. It reminded me that nature creates ephemeral beauty each day and I need to take the time to see and appreciate it. It is priceless and free.