Sometimes alliteration just happens, okay? Don't hate.
I love so much when the wind blows through the trees on a fall day, and a golden shower of leaves falls slantwise through the air. Bonus points if there's a sunbeam involved, which there usually is. Mmm.
Also, I was reminded this morning, as I am every time I am awake in the morning (which, admittedly, is shamefully rare), that morning light is its own ethereal, inexplicable, unspeakably beautiful beast. I was lucky enough to have to stop for traffic as I crossed the bridge this morning (I am not being sarcastic) and had the extremely rare opportunity to sit for a brief moment on the bridge and watch the morning sunlight slanting through the changing trees. It was gorgeous. A few hundred yards down the road it shone through a fountain, and I don't even know what to say about it. Beautiful.
And you'd think that sunrise would be pretty much the same as sunset, only backwards and on the other side of the house, but it isn't. Why isn't it? In both cases we're getting the sunlight at a steeper angle--the only difference is rising vs. falling. Is it the air temperature? Is it just that the air is less smoggy in the morning, or that the morning sun gets to dance through the fallen dew, whereas the evening sun has already burned it off? I'm really not sure, but I'm having that oh-so-American urge to say that I wish I could bottle the sunrise and morning light. I suppose I don't really, because it wouldn't be great anymore, then--only ordinary. But wouldn't it be glorious for a moment? Forget that it would be ruined forever after, and that its every-morning glory would be sacrificed for the sake of that once-glorious bottle.
Okay, don't forget. I love the sunrise.