EARLY MORNING ALPINE CRISPIES

This is what it looks like at 8:30 AM on a clear, crisp, 40 degree F morning in the French Alps.  All that cloud is, is the breath of the people.  I hadn't seen the condensation of my breath vapor in so long I was straining my cerebellic queevates for a milepost date, all to no avail.  The massive peak in the upper center of the picture is Obiou, famous for taking the lives of some fifty Canadians back in 1950.  It takes a long time before the sun get up high enough to make itself felt in this part of the world.  We Southern California folks don't usually gt to see this kind of beauty at any time.  Not unless we go to the Rockies looking for it.  To experience this is to have a spiritual experience.  There is something about knowing that the sun is warming a large part of the surrounding world territory and leaving me in the cold that is not totally comfortable.  It was cold this morning, believe me.  The spirituality of it all was not lost on me.  In fact it made me want to go to some warmer corner of the world for my spiritual experiences.  Someplace like the Sea of Galilee.  Now that is noce and warm and the sun gets up fiery and ready to go to work.  Now isn't that something to wish for?
You go out at about 4:30 AM in your T-shirt, have a cup of coffee an a croissant or some such foolishly fattening confection and wait for Brother Sun.  I will guarantee that you will not get to see your breath. I so warn you that you may lose your breath at some point during this adventure, but it won't be my fault.  After all, I warned you, didn't I?
I have seen a bunch of nice sun rises, but for sentimental reasons the spiritual ones are the best.  The one at the top of this page ranks among the top ones I've seen.  Beware, though, I have been sheltered from decent sunrises for over about 7 years now.  That happens to you when you inhabit Southern California.  You know what grates on me?  It's that I live in a house from which I can see the eastern extreme of the Pacific ocean out the west-facing kitchen window.  Over the years it has proven to be a great vantage point for watching the evening fog slink in over the lazy land that has already gone to bed.  So that's it for the sundown stuff.  Isn't that why people have west-facing kitchen windows?  I think I'll wrestle with the mortgage company for a refund.  I would do it except that I fear that those bumblers would say something like, "Well, you're not eligible for that since you have an off-setting benefit by the fact that you have an east-facing bay window.  What good it that?  All you get to see out of that window is the slowly awakening fog that slinked past the West-facing window last night that hasn't slinked back into China yet.  Come to think about it, why did I ever buy this house?  There ain't nothin' but fog and low flying evening and morning clouds out there.
Anyway, I'm going to leave you with this for now.  I've been terribly busy running away from my crispy, frost breath for the last week or so.  When I stop that nonsense I'll get back to you.