The weather forecast was right, mainly. I could see that the star filled pre-dawn skies were clear for the most part as I rolled along the forest road that snakes its way up from Mill Creek valley to the flat hilltops skirting the Salt Fork and Hurricane Creek drainages and then bends along the slopes of Bowles Gap Mountain and Pilot Knob and finally onto White Rock Mountain, our destination.
The weather forecast was right, mainly. The skies were clear except for the cloud bank sitting on the hills to the east that I watched for miles whenever there was a break in the trees that offered a view to the impending dawn. I kept hoping there would be some movement in those clouds, or some sign that they would be breaking up, or that the sun would rise to the south of them, but there they were and there they stayed, and I knew as I set up the tripod and camera on the edge of the bluff along the wind swept east side of White Rock Mountain that the sun would not be favoring us with her best light this morning, if she favored us at all.
Still, we waited, I by the camera, Junie at her chores running here and there and sniffing at this and that, doing what dogs do best, which is concentrating very intensely on that one thing that is the most fun thing to be doing at a given moment, which, by the way, is one reason I love dogs. Because in a just world there should be room for a creature whose job is to have fun, even when it's work, and having fun is the true calling of a dog.
Not that I wasn't having fun as well. No matter what the prospects for a colorful sunrise, it was a beautiful morning, even if a little on the brisk side, and as it turned out, even a tardy sun was able to punch some golden light through the clouds, and I was able to get a few pictures safely into the can. Another morning in the Ozark mountains.