Breakfast with ponies is the best way to start the day—but it’s only possible for me when we stay in Kentucky, where they can sometimes come home from the Horse Park in the evening.
Though the cottage’s paddocks may be the charming/rustic remains of enclosures for goats, that doesn’t lessen the beauty of a sunrise over its tree-lined rim.
Though I’m pretty sure (from the pipes) that this is a solar water heater, I still felt the appropriate “Californian” vibes when my early-morning hillside exploration revealed some sun-harvesting equipment.
Morning outside a classic Airstream camper in California has a lovely glow that reflects off the metal body. As today is Christmas morning, I’ll think of this view as my present.
While the rest of a wine-weekend gang slept in or drank coffee in their pajamas, I climbed the hill behind the house to catch this Saturday morning sunrise over Napa’s dormant vines.
Today’s guest post is an image by Lee Sullivan, taken on her way home from hockey practice.
That glow early in the morning.
The Sun rises over the Adirondack foothills and St. Lawrence’s Elsa Gunnison Appleton Riding Hall. I was up early to fly the Phantom for a very particular reason: This weekend marks Derby Day, the completion of the 2016 St. Lawrence Summer Horse Show Series. Spectacular riding is on tap for Saturday!
North Carolina’s Outer Banks.
The new structures of Hudson Yards are rising above the old rail yard and the old/updated High Line. The mix of old and new is a little obvious, but it’s one of the aspects of New York that I appreciate the most. The same species that made flint hand axes and mastered fire also developed structural steel. Perhaps the High Line’s gravel and 10 Hudson Yards‘s work-in-progress faces represent that.
There’s something very midwestern about the narrow, poorly marked roads that weave in and out of plots of farm. Mostly straight but somehow you can’t always see the horizon, dotted with the occasional farm house or barn.
For the most part I don’t find the vast unending crops of the midwest all that aesthetically pleasing. But I have to admit that early in the morning there’s something about the way that the newly risen sun hits a few patches of mist here and there over these fields that is kind of captivating.
Today is New Year’s Eve: out with the old, in with the new, etc. Time doesn’t seem to pass in Florida, however—it’s a place that’s always at the dawn of history, the muggy primordial swamp, with the monolith and the howling primates just outside the frame.
When the weather outside is frightful, go to Florida! With sunrises like this to greet me, I might never leave.
There is something enormously satisfying about the moments when a great shot comes directly to me—no setup, no searching, no prep. I looked outside, the scene was beautiful, and all I had to do was compose and shoot. The “easy” feelings keep coming in Florida: I don’t have to shovel any snow, either.
After a (relatively) warm weekend, the North Country is set to be entombed once again in winter. Though we’ve been promised by the false weather prophets that this cold spell won’t match the ferocity of January’s efforts, I can’t help but think back to mornings of almost unreal atmospheric thermal energy. On the edge of St. Lawrence’s campus, the sky was clear and the sun rose and cars puttered to work as though everything was normal.