I have always worshipped the dawn, particularly during the warmer months when you can leave the windows open and let the birds sound a tribute to Eos on her flying chariot, growing ever nearer, soon to break through the darkness. I hear cymbals and then light bursts through the kaleidoscope of dreams and they break into ice crystals and float into space past all those constellations named after Greek gods.

But I’m generally too lazy to get out of bed.

Sometimes I will try to return to my dreams but as the room grows lighter, they become merely memories sorted into the wrong bins.  It’s a shame because often I have my clearest thoughts during that time. At least, I think they’re my clearest thoughts but then I’m not even 100% sure that I’m even awake.  It’s a blissful feeling but not every writer has felt the same.

Philip Larkin, Aubade (lovers separating at dawn)

I work all day and get half-drunk at night,
In time I see what’s really always there,
Unresting death, a whole day nearer

Hey Death, can you take a rest already?  This persistence of your’s is a pain in the butt.  Let a guy get drunk at night and wake up without seeing your ugly puss.

Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east;
Night’s candles are burnt out and
day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

Translation: Dawn, you’ve come to ruin my love life once again.  Eventually cruel circumstance will force me back into the arms of fair Rosalind.  Or perhaps I will opt for death instead.

Luckily musicians seem to have a different reaction to the thunderclap of Dawn. How about you – sunrise or sunset?

It’s been too long since I’ve been Doorscaping.  And so today I stopped on my daily walk to take a picture of a few historic though rather plain doors.  

This is the door to my town’s oldest restaurant, Casa Orinda.  It’s been in the same location for 84 years, predating the freeway through town, the tunnel that leads to the town and the town itself.  It’s founder, John Snow, was a cowboy from Montana and thus it’s interior boasts of a mahogany bar, hand-carved reliefs and an antique gun collection.  Although the ambiance has been described as “spaghetti western,” their signature dish is Southern Fried Chicken.

Even the storage unit at the back of the restaurant sports an antique lantern.

Across the street from Casa Orinda sits the De Laveaga Train Station which is only a landmark today.  However from this spot, the short lived California and Nevada railroad hauled produce from the valley over the hills and to the docks.

It’s a very tiny structure but then the railway only catered to passengers in its final years.  Today it remains locked.

However, someone put a welcome sign in front.

I’m sure you’ll all be welcome over at Norms’ Place for his weekly #ThursdayDoors challenge.