Before the dawn
09/09/14 05:15
It has been more than three decades since my father died - half a lifetime for me. And yet there are times when I feel his presence and continue to feel his influence in my life. Life triumphs and continues in many different ways. The DNA that I inherited from him is now a part of my grandchildren. Easier to see, some of his personality is evident in our son, who was born after my father’s death. I regularly recognize his influence in my life and decisions. One of the times of the day when I feel his presence is when I take time to go out before sunrise. He was an early riser and some of my clearest memories of time with him comes from mornings when I rose early and went with him as he headed off to work.
There is a proverb that goes, “It is always darkest just before the dawn.” I don’t know the source of the proverb, but although it may bear emotional meaning, it is factually incorrect. At least in hilly or mountain country, the sky signals the coming dawn long before the sun rises. There is a definite pre-dawn mood to the world. The bird s begin to stir, and the nocturnal animals start to seek shelter. There is a hint of brightening even before the sunlight is visible on the horizon.
Even on the darkest, cloudiest nights, it isn’t really completely dark. That is one lesson my father taught me. He had good flashlights, but only used them when absolutely necessary. For walking in the woods he taught me not to use a light, but to give my eyes a chance to adjust. When you sit or stand and wait, you realize that there is more light than you expected. Even when the sun and moon are not visible, there are lots of other sources of light. When it is cloudy, the bottoms of the clouds reflect light whose source may be miles away.
There was plenty of light yesterday morning when I headed outside. The moon will be full tonight, so it was so close to full that I couldn’t tell the difference. The sky was clear and the moonlight made it easy to see the deer grazing in the neighbor’s yard and the rabbit in my front lawn. I drove to the lake, but by the time I got there the moon had set. The lake sits down in and the moon would still be visible from a high place, but in the basin of the lake it was hidden by the surrounding hills. No worries. There was plenty of light for me to unload my little rowboat and prepare it for launch.
there is something about the dark that encourages quiet and my little boats are among the most quiet on the lake. The rowboat isn’t as silent as a canoe because the oars creak in the oarlocks. Even with leathers, there is a sound when I pull hard. I know the Coast Guard regulations, and I suspect that the rules of the South Dakota Department of Game, Fish and Parks are based on the Coast Guard rules. Between dusk and dawn every vessel traveling on the water is required to display navigation lights: red on the port, green on the starboard and white on the stern. I think that there is a torch/lantern option for boats under oar. The boat shops sell simple battery-powered LED lights that stick on small craft, but I’ve never invested in one. I know the lake. I know that the fishermen won’t launch before sunrise. I had at least an hour before 6 am, when the fishermen start to arrive at the lake. There would be no reason for the game warden to arrive before the fishermen, so there is no one to enforce the rule. I knew I had the lake to myself, except for the beaver, ducks, and the deer who come down to the shore to drink. And the fish were rising, so there must have been some insects, thought I couldn’t see them and they weren’t bothering me. When I go out in the dark, I stick close to the shore and pay attention. Should another boat launch, I’d know it and be able to keep out of its way.
I rowed out into the lake and stowed my oars, picked up my coffee, and watched the sky to the east as I listened to the world wake up. It is a luxury of a day off that I can’t afford most days. Sipping a cup of coffee and watching the world. There was no wind and the lake was glassy smooth. The boat sat still and I had time to think.
Before I was aware of an increase in the amount of light, I notice
d a change in the color. Things are black or dark blue around the lake during the night. The green of the trees isn’t yet apparent. Ducks on the water appear as silhouettes. The first colors appear in the sky. When there are a few clouds in the east, their shapes become apparent as they are lit in gold and sometimes red or pink as well.Yellows and reds aren’t apparent until there is a little sunlight to reveal them.The gift of the morning is partly a gift of solitude. Even though I spent many mornings with my father when I was growing up, it wasn’t a time that required a lot of words. He’d say enough to let me know what was going on or where we were going. Sometimes he’d instruct me on a bit of information that he knew and I needed to learn. Mostly we simply shared the same space and enjoyed the same time. Sitting quietly in my little boat watching the sunrise, I could feel his presence as surely as when I was a kid trying to keep up with his pace as he walked.
I row for exercise. Living a too sedentary life, I need the exercise. But I also head to the like for peace and quiet and time to think. Fortunately the lake has all of those gifts to offer.