On Sunday I awoke to my alarm clock at the ungodly hour of 3:45am, and flopped out of bed into my waiting ‘fish clothes’.
I had prepared everything the night before, so having pulled on my clothes I eased myself into the pickup and set off upcountry.
In mid summer you don’t want to be late. I speak of that time of year around Christmas when most people are on holiday, and when by breakfast time you might just encounter the first bead of sweat running down your face. Its hot and rainy and humid. Sunrises over crisp wet lawns are good. Sunsets are spectacular. The white hot hours between are best spent in deep shade, where one should move as little as possible. And even if you don’t move, these hot times are not good. Not to me anyway.
So anyway, there I was, barrelling along at a good speed so as not to be late for PD. 4:30 at his house. On the water by 4:45 am. Sunrise was scheduled for 4:56 am.
Surprisingly enough there are one or two people around at this time of morning. This time there was an old man perched on the front steps of the general dealer’s at Lidgeton. We stared at one another, long and hard, as I loomed out of the dark, and zoomed past him. What the hell was he doing up so early? The damn place is hardly going to be so crowded at opening time as to justify a four hour head start on the other shoppers! (and its Sunday dammit)
I guess he wondered where the hell I could be going so early.
Its funny how at this time of the morning one feels at least somewhat unique. Your friends are all tucked up in bed. The air has a sweet aroma to it. A sort of “after the rain” bouquet, with an ice cured edge. The light is everything. It unfolds a dull grey from the east, and then suddenly it’s golden and startling, and shining in great big streaks, right past you onto a hillside.