In Which We See a Fall Sunrise

The early morning of the fall equinox, C Avenue, looking over pond at Rockwell-Collins.

I hope you are up early some of these fall mornings. We’re having a late summer here in the last half of September in Iowa—warm afternoons followed by pleasantly cool, but not cold, nights.

Today was the equinox when the sun, from our point of view, crosses the equator. Of course, from the sun’s point of view it’s just that silly tilted spinning ball swinging around again—but equinox it is.

And about 7:30 this morning, I was on Francis, headed towards campus. The sky, as it often is on a fall morning, was colorful and interesting, with just enough clouds to give the rising sun something to work with.

We’re at the time of year where a biker starts hankering for the frost, just a bit. The bugs are starting to get desperate and aggressive—the changing pattern of light is clearly sending signals, particularly to tiny biting insects. “Light is fading,” Mother Nature says in their tiny bug brains. “Find a walking sack of flesh with a thin, easily pierced covering, and suck, suck, suck! Time to gather protein for the winter eggs of next year’s biting hordes.”

Mother Nature tells it like is.

Pretty fall sunrise seen at Rohde Plaza, Mount Mercy University. Happy equinox day, but watch out. Winter is coming.

Anyway, despite the sudden appearance of bites from tiny blood suckers that, at the time, I didn't even notice, this is a great time to be outside riding a bicycle. Just don’t stop too long to take too many pictures.

Something is waiting, unseen, to pounce and bite. I’ll miss the green, but frost? You can come out now.