Tuscarora Sunrise
June 21, 2011
The phone rang. "Go look out your window." I recognized Linda's voice.
"What time is it?" I said, fumbling with the curtain, then opening the french door onto the deck.
"Is the sun up yet?"
"Well, it's pretty bright out. I'm going to have to go out in the yard to get a good look." I knew what she was talking about. I kicked on some shoes, hurried out the door into the yard, and saw the sun entirely up and over the Independence Mountains, over Milt's trailer. "Damn!" I told her. "It's completely up."
"Not here. Not yet," she said. Linda lives four miles away, down on the valley floor. "I'm going outside to take a picture. Goodbye."
"Hey, thanks for calling," I said as I heard the phone click. So, thanks to my childhood friend, there I was at 5:30, standing in the yard in my pajamas, surrounded by a glorious morning. The lilacs, the sagebrush, the noxious whitetop in full bloom, all glazed by golden light and the promise of summer.
Hallelujah!
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