First light often wakes me.
Having flown suddenly three thousand miles west, a more easterly time habituation wakes me early here. As happened yesterday at dawn.
Not wanting to stay in bed, I got up, dressed, and made a circuit of the neighborhood, making right turns until I returned home.
There is a smell to western air at dawn. A smell you don’t smell in the east. It’s a little “sharp”. Perhaps it’s the the plants…eucalypts, sages, and many other plants here have strong odors.
Here was a driveway, saved from “plain” by diverging rows of brick.
Our house in the East is called “Frogside”.
So my eyes are tuned to see frogs.
And I saw one.
At this same hose, birds “sang” at the entrance.
Corvids cavorted on the wires above the street.
“No birds wanted here”, said the weighted wires at Polliwog Park.
Across the street a Californirocket was poised for flight.
One a side street, books were on offer in a very tiny library.
Almost home, I was, when I saw a rainbow.
More than once I feel this trip has landed me somewhere over the rainbow, in a cloudless land of perfect days.