Une tache de couleur

"A spot of color."

If I keep my mind open, my eyes sometimes find a spot of color, of beauty, of extravagant and unnecessary revelation of the wonders of Nature. 

And of Nature's God. 

This morning, checking the fax machine (yes, there are still both vendors and customers who use the '80s medium) in the front office, when -- Lo! -- across the street, a spot of dawn sun spotlights a meadowlark on the barbed wire at the margin of the farmland across the street.  The new wheat is inches tall, and new-grass green in the morning light, when -- Ah! -- this picture has audio!  The meadowlark repeats, repeats, repeats his song: "I am a Western Meadowlark."

"The heavens declare the glory of God,

and the meadowlark proclaims His handiwork."

(So to speak.  And with apologies to King David and Psalm 19.)

Sunrise over the knife rack

What to my wondering eyes should appear this morning but -- color and texture in the dawn sky.  This picture looks out the kitchen window:

And yet ... and yet ... half an hour later, the sun is above the cloud layer and I'm still below.  The day is now gray.  Anybody that was not up for the show just misses out. 

There would be a moral to this story, but the Duchess is still asleep.