Morning Light Dripping on Me

Really.  It's true.
Ok, so it's not the light that's dripping.  It's the very heavy dew that has gathered on the bottom of the eave troughs.  I'm sitting in my favorite morning spot.  I've taken a few pictures.  I've filled my coffee cup.

I was just settling in to write about the view and the day and the glow, when PLOP!  Suddenly I had a wet keyboard and some unauthorized text in my post.  It started with, "1`".  

Hmmm. 

I shifted a bit to get out of the line of fire.  SPLAT!  This time the drop hit the opposite corner, the upper right.  Missed the keys by about an inch; so I don't have any new unauthorized text this time.

I had to turn my chair almost full east so that I could avoid the dripping.

Such a sacrifice!  Full east?

You can just barely make out the fenceline on the neighbor's pasture.

I find myself facing the soft green of the fields.  The sun is not yet above the house, so I sit in shadow.  Her glow is lighting all the lands to the east of me.

Nearest at hand the waving grasses of the CRP are a softly flowing green.  Ok, I'm lying.  It sounds more interesting that way.  Really, the morning is almost perfectly still, which is strange and wonderful.  The grass is not waving even slightly.  But it does sparkle with the morning dew.  It is a soft green.  The heads of the grasses are full with their seeds.  They are dotted with light.

Further out, dark with shadow, is the mound of brush the neighbor dozed out of the wild area last year, in preparation of working the CRP.  The mound of brush makes a dark brown hillock toward the back edge of the CRP.  This land is scheduled to come out of reserve in the fall, and so next spring we will have crops right up to the edge of the yard. 

View from my porch to the east.  Notice the rustic bench beneath the lilacs in the foreground.

Beyond the CRP sits the worked field of crops.  I believe Arden has it in wheat this year, although I've not walked out there to get a close-up view.  The ripening tops glow in the sunlight with a shimmering whiteness.  It looks almost like the shining surface of a lake.

At the furthest horizon are the neighboring woods.  They, too, are dark.  I see their western face, the shadowy side where the sun's rays will not lend them light and color until later in the day.

This is what I see when looking full east, after succumbing to the drops of morning wetness.  It was lovely and pleasurable and a sacrifice I did not at all mind making.

That's not, however, what I started out to say.

I started to write about the light on the poplars earlier this morning.  The ground was covered with a thick fog.  The sun was still low in the northeast.  The fog higher up had burned off, or perhaps it never was.  The sky was aglow from the moisture in the morning air.  A haze bent the sun's light into a greenish glow.  Oh, how I wished for a camera and the skills to use it well.  I've included the photos I took, but they do not do justice to the light and colors to which I was treated. 

Poplars in the early morning sunshine, fog on the fields in the background

The fog was settled thickly white along the ground.  The lower branches of the trees, where the sun was not yet brightening them, were a darker green.  And gradually, as I looked upward into the tree tops, the light and color changed from a deep green and almost brown, to a soft glow in the tops of the branches.  The haze and the green of the leaves combined with the sunlight to make a soft green and yellow glow.  Beautiful!

Click to original size to see cool colors, I hope