Morning magic

These days I wake up before dawn, when the house is asleep, dark and cold, and the owls are still hooting outside.  I go to the kitchen and start a moka pot of espresso coffee.  While I wait for it to be ready, I build a fire. 

And then my day begins: a hot cup of espresso in my hand, the fire crackling tentatively in the fireplace, I look out the window and watch the light change, as the morning comes.

In the still gray sky, over the sleepy dark mountains, the first ray of sunlight touches the tip of a birch tree, where a sparrow always likes to watch the everyday morning magic.

Then it reaches the hydrangea bush, making its now wilted flowers glow.

And only moments later, the full sunlight floods across the valley and illuminates the loquat tree and its fragrant white flowers: the last flowers of this season, and the first to bear fruits in spring time.

Everyday I watch the magic of fall sunlight wake up our world, as I wait for the fire to grow and warm up our house.