Morning in the Jemez mountains.

What a lovely morning. There was a very soft light as the ipod woke itself at the appointed time. With it’s connection to the main stereo system, this little miracle of music found my designated pick, and quietly began to fill the room with a soft, but eventually swelling choral masterpiece.

With my head still on the pillow, I looked out our window, towards a dimly moonlit mountain, and saw tiny tail lights working their way around this ancient and gigantic neighbor. Their journey places the mountain between us, and their lights are soon gone. I suppose those lights were 15 to 20 miles away.

I looked past the top of the mountain and saw Venus, so rightly called the morning star. We are on a ledge of the canyon, many miles from the lights that will rob your view of the night sky. Our night sky is dark except for stars, and the morning star blazes forth with undiminished glory. No mere mountain can block its view. The light that greets my eye this morning has travelled over twenty-three million miles, and now illuminates this small portion of the Jemez mountains.

It is quiet enough to hear the gentle breathing of my wife. Thirty eight years of waking up beside her. I am indeed a rich man, surrounded by treasure no vault could contain.

I slip quietly out of bed. There are two things this house needs every morning: coffee and a fire in the wood stove. Mornings in the mountains can be cold, and it will be my pleasure to provide coffee to warm the inside, and a bright fire to warm the outside.