I woke up in the dark the other morning, crawled out of bed, slipped on my shorts, T-shirt, and hiking boots and headed out the door with my camera. I’ve replayed this scenario so many times over the years. About 10 years ago I was living in Washington and would drive to Mount Rainier to see the sun rise over the mountains. Now I’m in Minnesota and I drive a few blocks and I’m walking through fields of tasseled corn, the temperature already at 80 degrees. In both instances I’m aware of so much more than the view in front of me. There are smells (whether of towering firs and cedars or agriculture fields) and there are sounds (of the creeks and streams that flow from the melting snow or the wind blowing through the corn and giving the geese thermals to float on). No matter where, there is so much that comes to life as the sun crests the horizon and the day breaks. The smoke from the wildfires in the west has drifted our way, giving our sunrises and sunsets a deeper shade of red and orange. This early-morning-time is ripe with the promise of the day (and the adventures) ahead.