Cold Sunrise, Millbrook Marsh

I do not know if there is any more amazing light than the light of a cold winter's morning. This past week has been the week when sunrise arrives at its latest hour, around 7:37 am or so. This time happily coincides with my travel to work, and I typically see some glorious sunrises this time of year.

We've had some cold and snowy days lately. Snowy weather earlier in the week led me to take the bus to and from work two days in a row. And on the second day, Wednesday, the bus somehow missed my stop, leaving me standing behind the Libraries, shivering, waiting for 40 minutes in the cold. I did manage to catch a later bus home, but the experience left me chilled to the bone. Hiking for 40 minutes in this weather is something I can do quite easily, as I've got the gear; standing around, however, is not so great, actually.

Around mid-week, a polar blast sent temperatures plummeting into the single digits. On Thursday morning, I awoke to a temperature of 3 degrees F, or -16 C. I wondered if there would be frost crystals anywhere. I was tempted to find out. So I decided to head to Millbrook Marsh for my first visit of the new year.

Now, to most people, Thursday morning would have seemed quite cold, but to one such as me, who had stood in temperatures just a few degrees higher than this for 40 minutes the day before, it didn't seem like a big deal. On this morning, I was dressed for the cold temperatures (all those layers mean you must allow 10 to 15 minutes extra simply to get dressed in the morning), I had my car and a hot cup of coffee, I could come and go as I pleased, and I had my camera. What more could a girl ask?

As I drove into town, the same thing happened as on Monday morning. I saw the pink of sunrise starting in the sky as I crested the first big hill. I hoped the colors would hold until I could get to Millbrook. When I got off my exit in town, the sun was a huge orange ball of fire just cresting Mount Nittany. I got on E. Park Ave., and turned left onto Orchard Road to head down the hill to Millbrook.

I parked the car, took one last sip of piping hot coffee, grabbed my keys and my camera, and headed out onto the boardwalk, every footstep making loud creaking sounds on the boards. I noted right away that there were no frost crystals, no frost mist rising; probably too much wind overnight for that. But the sun was rising through the clouds around Mount Nittany, and I picked a good spot where I could stand and watch, catching the reflections on Thompson Run. I strolled back and forth, looking for the best angle.

A huge hawk landed in the top of one of Millbrook's large burr oak trees not far away, no doubt in search of breakfast. A half-dozen mallard ducks swam by, saw me standing by the water's edge, thought better of it, and headed back in the other direction. On the other side of the creek, there was a layer of ice on top of the water. I found that if I kneeled down a bit, I could capture the fireball of the sun reflected on the water just beyond the icy edge.

What a treat it was to watch the sky show on this morning! And the 20 minutes I spent there in the cold was a cake walk, compared to the 40 minutes spent standing waiting for the bus the day before. I was bundled up well, and I've learned to handle the camera with my gloves ON, so I don't even really get cold hands any more.

When (more than 200 photos later) I sensed the sunrise show was nearing its end, I closed up the camera with a sigh and headed off to work. There, I got into the elevator with two ladies who were complaining about the cold; they were dreaming and scheming about moving to warmer climates.

I hesitated a moment before telling them this unpopular truth: that I love winter with all of its cold glories, all of its magic. And I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. They nearly booed me off the elevator, but it's true. Winter is a beautiful time, and every cold sunrise is well worth it. The magic is out there waiting in the cold. Bundle up and go find it!

Here is an instrumental tune to accompany this wintry image. The song is by Fiona Joy Hawkins, an Australian composer, vocalist, and pianist. I do hear in her music the influence of George Winston, a favorite pianist of mine. The video features wintry pictures that those of you who liked my photo may also enjoy. Here is Fiona Joy Hawkins, with A Winter Morning.