Mitten’s Sun




Every time, and I mean every single time, I see a sunrise I silently give thanks for being able to witness another amazing spectacle, for every single time it is an amazing sight. Granted, some sunrises are “better” than others, but they are all wonderful.

This particular sunrise was amazing in every regard. I was in Monument Valley, in the Navajo Nation, standing between the monuments known as “The Mittens.” It’s easy to see why they have this name, of course, since they resemble a pair of mittens. At first, I thought this would be a typical sunrise: pretty and wonderful, and a delight to watch. I had no idea, though, what the morning had in store for me, nor the treat that I would be given. As the night’s colors shifted away from the dark indigos into the morning’s oranges, I was surprised that the usual pink was nowhere to be found. Gradually, yet steadily, the sky lightened as the grip of night was vanquished. Slowly at first, then rapidly as the sun found its stride and began to rise, the colors rise on the horizon with it, seemingly pulling the sun up with them.

All at once the sun broached the horizon, sending its rays out over the land, heralding the start of a wonderful new day. Mitten’s Sun is my tribute to that moment in time.

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