Etsy

Monday, May 3, 2010

Mornings in the Mountains




I wrote this little story because I love mornings - and I strated thinking about all the chracteristics of the morning and wanted to share my thoughts. I hope you enjoy it.


Smoky Mountain Mornings

Mornings are unique.
Mornings are different.

Morning lights the streets of Venice Italy with a golden glow.
As the street vendors open their shops, smells of fresh breads, pastries and flowers fill the air.

An Alaskan morning may not arrive for a long time. A very long time, and when it finally does, morning stays awhile.

Mornings by a New England seaside are vast and mysterious. The wind is wet as the sun rises in the great divide between the heavens and the sea.

But…in the Smoky Mountains, mornings are the grandest of all. Mist wraps the mountain tops and valleys in a translucent softness.

Dew has settled on the spider’s weaving making the nightly creations look like diamond jewels cast off as night has gone to sleep.

And in between the valleys lie sleepy little towns whose mornings are like a favorite, comfortable memory. The traffic moves slow, when it moves at all. Streetlights go out one by one as dawn sweeps across the sidewalks. The smell of coffee brewing seeps under cracks of old wooden doors that have memories all on their own.

In the deepest, darkest parts of the Smoky Mountains- mornings are quiet. Mornings are mysterious. Shards of bright light perforate the boughs of the tallest, strongest pines.

Mornings in the Smoky Mountains beckon small animals into places the day will not allow.

Mornings in the Smokies cast a particular spell on early seekers, as it glides across gentle hills and jagged mountains.

Ordinary sunrises transform into extraordinary events-throwing off bright yellows and pale pinks.

Mornings glow and illuminate until all traces of a velvety night have disappeared.

Mornings in the Smokies have followed lasting winters, summers, autumns and springs in a most splendid way.

Mornings are unique. Mornings are different.

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