People often self-describe as “morning person” or “night owl,” and I have utmost respect:  I recognize the orientation as genuine.  If I experience dawn, I know I’ve seen the best time of the day.  In my life I’ve lost loves and faith and moved forward, but if I were banned from ever absorbing another dawn, condemned to henceforth always only open my eyes with the sun high in the sky and bleaching all colors, I’d collapse.  Yesterday, long as the workday, started like this.  From left to right:  Scott Turecamo, a dredge, and (I believe) John Reinauer in push gear.

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I’d stopped closer to the dredge to watch it a while, but fotos from too close didn’t capture what’s here.  This dredge feasted on river bottom with as much delight and relish as the hungry goose this time of year grazing on river foliage newly-emerging from riverbed, post-ice.

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Norwegian Sea approaches as Gramma Lee T Moran heads to pick up some struggling sea monster like

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Eagle Boston.  Whatever sea monster Gramma Lee had an appointment with, I’ll never know, because I got “chased” by Eagle Boston.  But that story has to wait for tomorrow.

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Back to dawns, I feel in my blood and cells why so many religions anoint this time of day with import.  Dawns inspire with a feeling like religion.

Finally, prayers for safety of  Captain Richard Phillips of Maersk Alabama.

All fotos here Will Van Dorp.

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