Sunrise

This was our sunrise at eight this morning, seen from the only window in the house which looks to the east - which happens to be on the landing half way up the stairs. Not that we can blame the person who designed the house so all the main windows faced northwest: at that time a busy garage stood directly in the view.

There's something very special about a sunrise. It's the start of a day, a new beginning, and the air is fresh and clean. Sadly, in Britain a gorgeous red sunrise like this is, according to the old saying, a "shepherd's warning" - and so it proved today as we have had gales, and heavy rain with sleet.

I have had the good fortune to live in two houses which had unobstructed views south-eastwards across the sea, from which I could watch the sun rise day after day. This picture is one of many spectacular sunrises which we watched in our years on Ardnamurchan, looking across Kilchoan Bay to Ben Hiant. As with so many great British sunrises, this one was in mid-winter.

However, I don't think I have ever seen sunrises to compare with those in East Africa. In the years we visited Tanzania, when we were staying in campsites on the beach, I would get up early to walk along the tide line, feeling the cold sand between my toes and watching the light change across the sea. In this picture the sunrise is framed by the leaves of a casuarina.

In my memory these glorious golden sunrises always coincided with dead calm, so the sea was like a mirror; and the random scattering of small cumulus clouds seemed to be deliberately arranged to enhance the effect.

And like the ghost crabs, as the strength of the sun began to build I would stand facing it, feeling its warmth across my bare skin, knowing that, in a few minutes, the light would become almost unbearably bright, at which point I would turn back along the beach in search of breakfast.