Getting up before the dawn is such a pleasure, I told my early-bird dog a bit sarcastically this morning. In a way, I guess I meant it.
The pre-dawn morning was warm; the cicada were softening their song. The morning star was huge and brilliant. The moon was in its final phase, looking like a woman's ring, with slender crescent where the gem would be, and outlined all around by a slender ring of silvery gold.
Apparently as I admired the sky, I fell asleep on the porch chair, and when I awoke, the sun was edging up over the eastern hill of my valley and my garden flowers absolutely glowed in the morning light.
Poor dog. He was sleeping uncomfortably in front of the door on a mat much too small for his big, clumsy, aging body.
R.A.T. (Rose About Town) headed for the coffee-maker.