©Copyright  DAY14 Brass Bell, Kalk Bay, Cape Town

...had more than my quota of morning yawning today. but off I head into the cold start of the day, wondering, as is now a habit, how to catch something when the light is generally so shy. pushing the sometimes nagging expectations from my mind...

wanting something close to home, as I was heading back there straight after to have breakfast at the foodbarn deli, then head to work. but no prizes for performing sunrises just over the mountain. only a smidgen of horizon and a glimpse of runners feet in the shadows.

trauling almost for this mornings pic, I head past a hidden Fishhoek Beach and on into the waking fishing village of Kalk Bay. listening to the quiet wisdom of my knowing little voice that I trust implicitly and which guides me daily to the destination of its choice.

there are royal options in the midst of my camera's range after all... but I settle on this one with  bird standing to attention, waiting for mine. not moving or charging, just being sprayed by the blue mist from every seventh wave, crashing its torrents into the tidal pool. it must be jonathan again, so how could I refuse his portrait...

my slightly grumpy spirit from earlier dissolves in the written stories all around me... a freshness of air, a soggy step and waves crashing, never cease to lighten my load... and I head back to the company of noordhoek trees and cosy farm cottage. breakfast at the deli, surprised deep hugs and valued moments... the day has begun but it begins again...

©Copyright

DAY7 Brass Bell, Kalk Bay, Cape Town

... quiet and calm out there this Sunday morning while the world slowly wakes, while the surfers warm their hands on cold paper cups, waiting for a waves to make waves

its going to be brass bell this morning, that much I know when I wake. how or what or when is always under debate on these early morning pilgrimages. will the light behave, will the light be enough or too much.

...driving, warming, peering, then parking and skipping quickly over the lazy road of kalk bay's weekend locals. down through the famous brass bell tunnel and out to the ocean swirling satin smooth around the bay. no ripples, no sounds, no one near or far. the orange pink on the horizon just offering a slight mirror on the brass bell tidal pool as a lone bird stands by watching this lone human bird capturing a moment with her kalk bay world and its history

onwards, outwards, early even as one of the first at cest le vie, a steamy crispy just outta the oven baguette with butter and my usual cuppa in a bowl - on order for a sunday morning, mother's day before work