There's something magical about a summer morning
just after the whip-poor-will has silenced its strident song
and before the glowing sun has appeared over the hill.
It's then that we see some of the more reclusive creatures that inhabit our forest,
like the
bobcat that appeared recently.
Yesterday, at first light, a family of raccoons scrambled down one tree
and up another, four small masked fluff balls following a larger one,
their striped tails broadcasting their identity.
It's only early in the morning that we see the big bucks;
they visit occasionally,
and long before the sun comes up they melt back into the woods.
The Italians have a phrase, "Il mattino ha l'oro in bocca"
which corresponds loosely to our adage "the early bird gets the worm".
Literally, it translates, "the morning has gold in its mouth".
I like that thought, and I think it's true.
There's another thing that's golden about the morning.
The ancient Jewish prophet Jeremiah wrote,
"The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is His faithfulness;
His mercies begin afresh each morning."
