"Breaking Dawn" - Commentary by Tony Seton

Breaking Dawn

Truth be told, the dawn doesn’t break. The sky begins to lighten as the sun climbs from behind the eastern horizon. Of course, there’s no climbing; it’s the Earth turning at a thousand miles per hour, for those of you stuck in reality over perception. Hardly a languid event either way. We are 93 million miles from Ole Sol, and most of us are happy just to see the dawn, breaking or not.

The other morning found me back in Redding, at the home of dear friends. My bedroom gave me a view of the mountains to the west, rising 7,000 feet, their tops covered with snow, made pink and orange in the first light of day. The color, of both dawn and dusk, is mostly generated by the fact that at the extreme angles, the light is coming through more atmosphere. Sort of a silver lining in the "pollution," though it’s mostly not about pollution and nor is it silver.

Almost before my eyes, the colors changed, and as the sun rose over the eastern hills, they dissolved away the colors, leaving the snow virginally white again. Meanwhile, in the other direction, fog formed and thickened above the valley floor until it was impenetrable at a hundred feet. It would hang around until noon, as is so often the case in the winter at the northern end of the Sacramento Valley. Some winters, the fog doesn’t clear for weeks.

Being back in Redding generated mixed feelings. I was in town to work on separate communications projects with my friends, which was ironic since I’d left because I couldn’t find work when I lived there. Such is the nature of intentions and happenstance.

The geography doesn’t matter much when the beings who inhabit it offer warmth and love; connectedness allays the doubts and melts the apprehension. This house and these friends feel good. There’s a small art tile on the kitchen counter which reads, "Life is too short to drink bad wine." Case-o closed-o.

I sit in a large soft chair in the living room, looking out into the densening fog; McDuff, a West Highland Terrier, in my lap and Lola, a long-haired chihuahua, sitting on my shoulder. If I wouldn’t disturbed them, it would be a perfect time to put pen to paper but we three are all so comfortable. Some times it’s better to simply reflect.

But now it’s time to earn my keep; shoot and edit and miles to go before I sleep.

And that’s SetonnoteS...I’m Tony Seton.