Afton diary, May 10

Too many times the sun has risen and I have not been able to savor the event from my perch at the Afton house.

This morning, though, I am up early, watching the dawn unfold. A low-lying cloud just to the northeast drifts like an island, purple with rose surf crashing on its shore. Birds carol, and the breeze rustles the trees, as if shaking them awake.

The first glimmer of the sun makes my heart jump, a reaction I did not anticipate. Red turns to orange to peach to honey to glistening gold, then to a color I cannot see without burning my eyes. I look askance, still trying to drink what is flowing across the horizon.

There comes a moment when nothing comes between the sun and me–no clouds, no branches, no buildings. There is something pure about this, and it forces me to close my eyes and stop everything but feeling the warmth and light. I try to think no thoughts, but one persists. It is thanks for another day, another sunrise, another moment of beauty.


About admin

I am a writer. And a musician/songwriter. And a husband/father. I love good beer, the outdoors, the embrace of family, the company of true friends, the telling of a good story and the inner peace derived from quiet reflection in solitude. Recently I have specialized in beer writing. My most recent adventure is "Virginia Beer: A Guide from Colonial Days to Craft's Golden Age" published fall 2018 by University of Virginia Press. In October 2014, "Richmond Beer: A History of Brewing in the River City" was published by History Press. "Charlottesville Beer: Brewing in Jefferson's Shadow," followed in January 2017. Send me an email at As you can see from this site, however, my interests are broader than beer. Spend time, leave a comment or just enjoy. Lee
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