If you look very closely at this roseate morning sky, you can see the tiny white curve of moon towards the upper right hand of the photo. A sunrise sliver, a night-time sky resident caught out by the dawn.
Zoomed as close as my earthbound camera can take me, I can see no sphere beyond the sliver; I must take it on trust.
But the moon glimpse is a bonus to a sunrise that is already expanding into a stunner. Despite all the sunrises I have seen, I am amazed anew.
I am reminded of a ‘Country Viewpoint’ piece I wrote and recorded for ABC Radio National’s Bush Telegraph program a few years ago; the morning moon was full and in the west here, but the delight was the same.
The rewards of early rising
Living in the bush means I don’t need to close my curtains at night — unless I choose to for extra cosiness in winter. So I am woken, not by a clock alarm, but by the pale pearliness of morning seeping into my consciousness, very often beating the kookaburra chorus.
The windows by my bed are low, facing the north-east, and at first eye-opening I greet the nearby densely forested gully and its adjacent ridges, their falling slopes allowing me to look right into their treetops and spy on kookaburras, wattle birds, crimson rosellas, friarbirds, magpies and currawongs.