, , ,

It was sun-up.

The house was quiet.  I grabbed my camera and tip-toed out to take a walk.  To breathe in the light and soak up the beauty of my surroundings in this old Mexican village high up in the Sierra Madre mountains.

The dogs were ready for some company.  They, too, were early risers on this day.

We sauntered along.  There was much to see – a fast pace was out of the question.

Brightly painted wooden doors dotted the high stone walls that lined the narrow cobblestone streets.  Behind those walls, family homes and gardens belonging to Mexicans and Ex-pats alike.

Beautifully crafted wrought iron, and hand painted murals of the saints adorned some walls – added for their beauty and protection, and perhaps to provide a blessing or two for the street.

Trailing vines heavy with blossoms of orange, purple, pink and white poured over the walls’ thick edge.

Fishermen up early to discover the lake’s offerings for the day made their way to the water’s edge.

The sound of straw brooms sweeping the cobblestones as other early risers began the morning’s chores.

And, tall tree tops bursting with orange blooms set against an azure sky.

It was a lot of beauty to breathe in.

Capped off, as I returned to the house, with a view above my head..a mosaic of dark branches, and green leaves lit up with the early morning light, and a single orange blossom – as though it were the heart of the age-old tree.

A mosaic in the sky.