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Daedalus was the mythical great architect and artificer of the classical world. Today, embedded intelligence is enabling the most profound changes in the way we create and use buildings since his day.

Building Intelligence meets the Intelligent Building. The Intelligent Building negotiates with the Intelligent Grid. How will this transform how we interact with the physical world?

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Tuesday
Dec212010

I like a Winter Morning

I like waking up warm, under the covers in a cold room. When the kids were younger, I had to leap out of bed at the alarm, and walk the dogs, and make breakfasts, and pack lunches, and get the kids out the door, like a paratrooper sergeant shouting “Go!. Go!,Go!”. Now a can lie in bed and revel in the warmth, and let WCPE (Great Classical Music 24 hours a day) ease me awake. Today, for the first day of winter, the Waltz of the Snowflakes at 5:30 was as good a background for a joyful awakening as one could hope for.

Rusty is old, and slow, and no longer chases into the next county. He stays close in the dark, even as the herds of deer, meticulously eating the buds off my camellias chuff their startlement and prance off into the dark. The cold air keeps smells down, and they are as startled as I when I come on them in the dark. From the bottom of the hill, it’s a half mile to the old store, and the morning paper.

The guinea fowl are in a tree off the road, calling quietly to each other in their cold weather voices. By summer, they are outraged, and angry, shouting their annoyance at all who pass near. But in dark winter, they are quiet, perhaps they do not know I am about. Perhaps they are calling to sooth each other, back and forth like night hikers on the glacier, awed by the silent dark, but keeping an eye on each other.

Up ahead are the brightest Christmas houses, right across from each other. On one side, the Hispanic family has moved in, and dedicated a passion to Christmas lights that I remember from growing up in San Diego. I remember in 1969, San Diego’s 200th, when we were asked to keep our lights up all year. The town’s colors are Brown and Gold, and the call went out to change all the Christmas colors to yellow after Christmas. Changing light bulbs is not as easy when they are up as when they are on the floor. I seem to remember that my mother kept me in the tall carob trees on either side of the driveway for all of January, two sacks of tiny bulbs in my hands.

On the other side of the street is the solar power house. They always offer me light on my morning walk, as self-powered driveway lights create an aura around the Clyde Jones chainsaw sculptures. But with Christmas, they have thrown all caution, and perhaps solar power to the wind and the sculptures are awash in tiny lights. Perhaps they are leaders in using the early morning energy surplus; but I think it is the Joy of lighting for Christmas.

From there on, it is lights all the way to the store, a lot of purple this year. The road is silent, with no one else about. Even the dogs are all inside on these cold nights. Rusty and I have the walk alone, with the dear, and the fowl, and the lights. Any colder, and it might be too much of a good thing. The full moon was getting ready to hide for the day.

I like a winter morning.

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