Misty Mornings

Although I have to admit that I’m not really a morning person – until the first coffee has hit my stomach I’m fairly dysfunctional – I do love the mornings. It’s usually the best time of day, full of possibilities still to be worked out.
When I was a student I worked at thoroughbred studs every vacation to earn extra money. We would be at the stables by 5 am to put the yearlings out into the paddocks in groups of 5 or 6. The Waikato area where we lived in New Zealand is a green and fertile basin, with a relatively high humidity which often caused morning mists which lay heavily in the fields until the sun rose high enough to burn them off. I still often think back to how the sun would slowly seep like a big orange ball over the horizon, lighting up the waist-deep layer of ground mist which swirled and eddied as we walked our still sleepy horses to the fields. Apart from a bright chorus of birdsong the only sound was the soft tread of hooves on the dusty track and the occasional snort or jingle of a bit as a colt shook the sleep from his head. Once we let the horses go we would lean on the gate and watch them, the sunlight now just bright enough to light sparks in their manes as they started to move through the grass. Long legs still obscured, curling eddies rose from the mist as they seemed to float on a white cushion of cloud, moving soundlessly at first through the thick damp grass. First the horses would walk away tossing and shaking their heads until one snorted a challenge and the group would start to trot, gaining speed until they were in a full canter by the time they reached the far side of the field, only dimly visible in the half light. With a thunder of hooves they would race each other around the paddock, kicking up their heels and tossing their heads, long swirls in the mist sweeping out behind them as they thundered past then disappeared into the half light once more. It was a magical moment and one which we never tired of watching.

Once I moved to Holland to take up a holiday job as an au pair for horses in the village of Vorden it was back to early morning starts, at least in the summer months. I would get up when it was still dark to saddle the big bay cob I rode, Daffyd. I rode out with a white pony on a lead rope alongside. As we headed into the forest the sun would be just coming up, a deep red stripe appearing over the trees while a crisp moon still hung overhead. It’s really the best time of day to ride: the flies don’t start biting until later, the air is still cool and the only company I hd in the woods were the foxes, squirrels and birds.



These days we don’t have any horses around us – you need to visit the zoo to see them in Singapore – but mornings are still a special moment. It’s often quite hazy here when the sun comes up due to the high humidity and very still air. There is a chorus of birds – musical orioles, screeching green parrots and all sorts of chirping song birds – and the incessant whistle of cicadas. Before the heat rises too much (it will be 34 C today) I like to come down to the pool side and write my blog. I’ve included some photos of a misty morning a few days ago, taken looking out our lounge window at the historic ‘Black & White’ houses behind us.