Arrived back from the weekend camping trip just this afternoon and am still feeling a little tired and worn out even after a lazy evening in front of the television, watching The Hours and other things. A nasty cold caught on the first night out and only just clearing up now, seems to have put a damper on the whole experience. I put in the effort regardless, determined on having a good time, though at times it appears as though there's always something there to trip you up along the walking path.
For a brief period this morning, with the sun coming up over the lake and shining through the trees onto our tent, for some reason I awoke a few minutes before my alarm. The early hours of the morning, before anyone else is awake, provides a certain solitude, even when surrounded by the sleeping. Standing alone at the top of the hill, watching dense fog float and engulf the distant trees and the morning mist sliding over the clear lake, glistening in the sun, gives that unmistakable sense of significance, bearing sole witness to the morning's reality while others remain happily dreaming. A single sunrise, a solitary moment, stored away in the soul.
The lonely sun over the Crestbrook lake