Early morning in the Hutt Valley

    The sun, petulant because it had been hidden by clouds for a few days, was so bright it almost hurt my eyes early Tuesday morning when it burst over the mountains. It brought not only light but also warmth that made even the cool morning breeze bow before it.
    Morning in the hills above the Hutt Valley is full of sound. Birds stake their territories with a variety of songs, chirps and a few raucous calls. The breeze blows through the trees turning the leaves into musical instruments that play softly in the morning light. Not far away a dog barks; not challenging anyone or anything, simply barking to announce its presence to the world. Far below, there is the soft sound of cars full of early morning commuters heading into work along the asphalt river that is Route 2.
    I am not someone who is altogether comfortable in hidden places. I much prefer city streets to forests; I like the sound of people moving about, of their voices and the noise that they make walking, opening doors, carrying packages. Despite that, on Tuesday morning I found myself feeling content as I stood on the small terrace of this house that is hidden from its neighbors by trees growing so thickly together that it might have been dropped into the middle of a rain forest and forgotten.
    Down below, in the valley, people were opening shops, baking bread, ordering supplies and generally getting ready for another day. I could not see them but I knew they were there and what they were about for I have lived most of my life in close proximity to other human beings and have done so on purpose. For a little while, however, I did not feel the urge to go down to be with them. Instead, I stood watching the world from this hideaway, drinking a cup of strong coffee and wondering how the first men and women to see it must have felt when they looked down into the valley from this spot so long ago. There would have been no city in the valley then, of course, no collection of buildings dotting the landscape. Could those first men and women have envisioned a time when there would be? And if they could have envisioned such a time, would they have approved?
    I don't know the answers to those questions, nor do I need to. On a Tuesday morning, feeling quite alone but not lonely, it was enough just to ask them.