I became a morning person somewhat unwillingly with the birth of my child. In those first days of 5am feeds and fretful napping I could not imagine there ever being a time when I could celebrate the sun rising, much less go out of my way to see it. But months and years passed; early morning crying was replaced by small hands on my face, patting me awake to request a story. Then came years of morning sports’ practices and rushing for early school buses, until finally the day arrived when 7am felt like a lie-in. Now of course, the boy-child can (and does on occasion) sleep until noon, while I stand on a motorway overbridge at 6am photographing the first blushes of colour to greet early-morning commuters.
As the closest, east-facing bit of the harbour to my home, Hobsonville Point has become my go-to place for spectacular sunrises.
This morning, I arrived just before the sun came up and a low mist still shrouded the harbour. From the yacht club I could see south down the Waitemata towards Birkenhead; where sea and sky were indistinguishable and softly grey.
Although I could hear commuter traffic, it seemed muffled by the mist, and provided a bassline for the melody of lapping waves and the splash of a lone kayaker’s paddle.
Today is a weekday, and there is a commuter ferry from Hobsonville Point to the city, but this morning there was no-one else around and the sun came up for an audience of one.
This post was written for the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge.