I've always been an early riser. When I retired I thought that might change, but it hasn't. I'm still up before daylight every day. The first thing I do every morning is go outside, into the back yard, with the two dogs - rain or shine. This morning, standing out there, I did what I always do, breathe deeply, gaze at the night sky, listen to the sounds of the morning, and feel thankful for my home, my place in the world, my wonderful life. This morning the sky was full of stars after the drenching rains we've had for the last several days. The air was damp and sweet, with a hint of the tangy ocean - only a mile away. The garbage trucks were clanging and humming through the streets. I could see iris buds swelling in my garden, saved for another day by the heroic actions of my little Django pup. This week he caught and valiantly dispatched an enormous gopher with long, curving yellow teeth. While he and the gopher were dancing at each other, I called for Zuma, our rat terrier, thinking that she would know what to do. She took one look at the situation and then backed away primly, shivering with fear and disgust. Her "ratter nature" did not kick in, but Django managed on his own, to save the day!
While I stood there this morning I remembered my childhood on the farm, where the early rising took root in me. Nobody ever slept past 7 am in our home. My father was always up at around 5 am to go check on the sheep and turkeys, and begin the day. My mother cooked breakfast for the whole family, often baking some fresh pastry to have steaming hot when we kids got up. There were chores to do, a school bus to catch, and nobody was allowed to lie around in bed.
Now the early mornings are my most precious time - delicately fresh and quiet hours when I savor the coming day, and feel the new energy surging through my body. Yes, I'm a morning person! And this morning I'm feeling hopeful for the world.