Houston by dawn and day

sunrise:  7:08

There are a lot of wonderful things about travel.  Coming from Maine, one of the best parts of travel is that almost anywhere you go, the sunrise is a bit later than at home.  Being back on the civilized side of 7am is quite nice.

City sunrise is always difficult to capture on film from ground level.  After four days of storms and clouds, in the midst of city buildings, I wondered if I would ever get a decent sunrise shot before leaving Texas.  After a move from the high rises of downtown to the sprawl of "mid-town" (an area that feels more like suburbs to me), I found my sunrise sky.

Not bad.

Here is our pre-dawn, mid-town view of downtown:

While I'm at it, I will share a bit of my daytime explorations of this fourth largest city in the United States.  I have had 5 days here to wander about while J attends a conference.

Houston is a pretty major sports hub, and two big arenas caught my eye as a walking tourist.  The Toyota Center, home of the Houston Rockets, has a lovely circular tribute garden dedicated to Hakeem Olajuwon.  Nearby is a basketball park that offered a nice view of downtown, shrouded in clouds.

Minute Maid Park, the baseball hub, is built on to the old Union Station, a train station designed by the same guy that designed Grand Central Station in New York.  Now those grand days of train travel are gone and the pillared foyer only serves as an entryway to the ball park.

Outside, a statue of Craig Biggio hurls a ball to the first baseman across the way.  Biggio played his entire 19 year career with the Houston Astros.

The historic district was somewhat disappointing.  Some people complain that Houston has wreaked havoc with its historical architecture.  Very few early buildings still stand.  This humble brick townhouse is one of the oldest (the oldest?) building in the city that still sits in its original site.

One of the most unusual things to me about Houston was its multi-level world.  There are skyways and tunnels like lacework all over the city, above and below.  The tunnels reminded me of airport terminals, endless rows of shops and restaurants, except there are no windows in sight.  A bit claustrophobic for me, and it seemed weird that so many people were spending time underground when there is perfectly nice fresh air outdoors.

So I headed outside the city and visited Hermann Park.  I skirted the edges of Rice University and got a little "choo-choo train" tour of Hermann Park, where there are monuments, lakes, an outdoor theater, and museums.  And of course, there are very cute squirrels.

There are also lots of live oaks.  Live oak trees are one of my favorite things about the south.  That exquisite, tortuously twisted and gnarled branchwork evokes an intensely expressive character in these trees.  They all seem to have a story to tell, and create haunting silhouettes at any time of year.

And speaking of trees - this is a famous, or perhaps infamous one in Houston.  Though there are conflicting versions of the tales, some call this "the Hanging Tree" of Houston.  Ostensibly, many men were hanged from its branches in the early days of the Republic of Texas.  But even in the 1800's, this 400 year old tree was already a venerable old creature.

passages of thought at the end of january

sunrise:  7:01

a few random thought passages this morning....



Sometimes, this time of year, people find themselves feeling a lot like this empty milkweed husk.  A walk around the pre-dawn world can do wonders to fill your soul.










Strange winter - plenty of ice but what little snow there was has disappeared.  The icy flow across the back field is an unfamiliar landscape, usually buried under a blanket of white.

There are advantages...it is much easier to get up and go - no boots necessary.  But I am still looking forward to snow's return:  visible animal tracks, the smell of snow, cold moisture in the air, the crunch underfoot, the glide of cross-country skis, the highlighted detailing of tree branches, the silent footfalls, and the brightness that glows from the ground under a night sky.

As of this morning, my four children are now living in Los Angeles, Washington, DC, New York City, and Boston.  Our family is spanning the country.  We will more thoroughly span when A moves to St. Louis next summer.  Where will everyone land when it comes time to settle down, I wonder...?  Or perhaps, the concept of settling down won't be the same.

Tomorrow is the last day with a sunrise on the civilized side of 7am.

a little color for January blahs

sunrise:  7:06

It happened gradually - the slow, creeping in of old bad habits.  Just over a year after my 365 sunrise completion, I am finding myself lingering under the covers until the sun is long up...nine o'clock...ten o'clock.  As an occasional anomaly it may be okay, but as a habit it is deadly.  Apathy settles in.  The idle mind gets preoccupied with unproductive meanderings...

It was time to get up.

It seems that I don't often hit the finest mornings for my more selective sunrise outings, but no matter.  Getting up and out is the point.  Right now the light snow has turned into a heavy snow outside my window, which actually has a beauty all its own.

Two things helped to lighten up the day:  exuberant dogs, and unexpected beauty.

How can I remain lethargic in the face of Kate's ever-ready, joyful energy?

and they humble me, with my hopelessly insufficient sensory ability.  The three of them found something to sniff here that caught their attention like a fire alarm

And a bit of winter color is a lovely thing.

January sunrise - coast to coast

Many thanks to Tess and her dad for winter sunrise contributions from coast to coast:




Big Sur, California sunrise at the new year:

Washington D.C. dawn, January 6, 2012

Wow.

carpe aurora!

sunrise:  7:13

The latest sunrise of 2012 was yesterday, but only by a few seconds.  This is the cushiest time of year to roll out of bed and get out to see the dawn with minimal intrusion on your morning rest.  So - get out there - seize the dawn!

"Good morning!" "Good day!" "Good year!"

Most of the people who read this blog have already seen my New Year's column, but for those who haven't, here is the link:

Reflections At the Turning of the Year

Despite a string of late, late nights spilling into the early morning hours, I woke up with the pre-dawn light on this first day of 2012. For a while I tried to ignore the outdoors, then a beam of sunlight snuck into my bedroom and insisted that I get up.

In our predictably unpredictable climate, we had a white Thanksgiving and an earth-toned New Year's.  But there is still ice on the pond to distinguish this day from November.

It is fun to stay up late celebrating, but really, getting outdoors in the morning is a much better way to feel good about the future.

I wish you all a good morning, a good day, and a good year.

reflections of a year

(Christmas cactus blooming, right on time)

It's hard to believe that almost a year has passed since I completed my year-long sunrise marathon.  Life is unfolding in a satisfactory way, and I deeply appreciate the occasional morning indulgence of lounging under the covers until 9 or 10 o'clock in the morning.

And yet...those days out in the morning sun left an indelible impression.  About once every week or two I feel a stir of longing for that quiet, anticipatory time of day, when the world hangs in suspension.  Everything and anything feels somehow, possible.









It's also a lot easier when the sun is rising at 7am...

(I like this look - the blaze of the sun is the heart, the core of this growing tree...)