A dawn of promise

I've noticed a trend in my photography lately for the Journal.

It seems I can't get enough of sunrises and sunsets. Judging by the entries in last year's calendar photography contest, neither can our farm and ranch readers.

I argue the cause of this attraction is the solitude of a sunrise. Who else but those with early morning chores are around to share in the secret of a sunrise? There's no Sunday-driving gawkers out to spoil the moment with obnoxious car noises, or children slamming the porch door on the way to the waiting school bus. It's just you and a mug of steaming coffee starting the day.

The only sounds you hear are the squeaks of the back porch step as you sit down to pull on your work boots, the crunch of the gravel driveway under your feet as you walk to the barn, and the soft sounds of the padded feet of your farm mutt as he follows your every move. If you listen really carefully, you'll notice the low moos of the cattle as they push their way to the feed bunk.

Your breath, if you haven't been holding it, comes in slow and steady, nice and easy. Afterall, there'll be plenty of time the rest of the harried day when you'll be too busy to breathe. For now, though, your body is aligning itself with the rest of your little piece of the universe, and all is well.

The sun peeks over the horizon and everything it touches is instantly prettier--working chutes, farm equipment, silos, barns--everyday items that in the full light of the day don't seem so spectacular take on a second life when tinged with golds and reds of sunrise. It's as if the sun's beginning rays reveal the hidden beauty of the ordinary and utilitarian. As if, for a small instant, you glimpse an iota of the great plan.

It almost makes you sorry to fire up the diesel engine on the feed wagon, but even that noise, as it breaks the morning stillness, sounds like an opening chord on the symphony of the day.

Sunrises are just one small gift from a higher power as a thank you for being a good steward of the land. It's a benefit for being extra tolerant of weather, crop prices and stress. It's like the prize in the Cracker Jack box--a reward for sticking to farming and ranching, for hard labor, long nights, and stressful days.

They refuel not your body, but your spirit. Just when you think you need to throw in the towel on the whole shebang and take up your neighbor's offer on your farmstead, you go out and are greeted by a dawn so brilliant, your spouse finds you standing in awe, slack-jawed, one boot on and one in your hand, looking up at the sky.

Their beauty is what drives me to pull over on a busy morning commute and take 20 minutes to just photograph it. Just to be with the dawn, and the sounds, and the smells, and the peaceful quietude.

Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com.

Date: 12/29/05

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