There was a slight chill in the early morning air as I walked down the little track to the river. The birds in the rainforest canopy above me quietened as their space was invaded and an echidna burrowed a little deeper into a hole beside the track searching for a juicy meal.
Finding the area of soft grass, which was my special spot, I sat quietly and waited for life around me to return to normal. The resumption of the bird family’s chirpy activities was my sign that I was accepted in this simple world of nature.
Some lingering whisps of mist still hovered over the water whose glassy flatness was being disturbed upstream by some ducks attending to their personal cleansing chores.
As I watched this peaceful panorama, some of the concerns I would have to face at work during the day started to pervade my thinking. Quickly, I put these to one side and concentrated on the far bank where I could make out two dark shapes quietly moving around under the water’s surface. The platypus family were early risers.
While the level of light was improving, the first rays of the sun had yet to touch the river. Only the very tops of the trees had changed colour indicating the power of the sun’s penetrating presence.
Night was becoming day, a procedure that has been happening since the dawn of creation. This particular day I was an integral part of the transformation.
I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could really believe all that was happening around me was the result of an explosion in space.