...I sure think early mornings are beautiful.
Right now I'm looking out the window and enjoying the early light on our back yard and the valley beyond. If the backyard wasn't such a weedy eyesore, the view would be even better.
The first time I remember enjoying early mornings more than sleep was when, during the summer I was 15, my grandfather and I would go for a bakery run before anyone else was awake. Even better was when I would pick berries at the edge of the nearby forest and bring them back for breakfast.
Years ago, I re-discovered the wonder of early mornings when I worked in Beverly Hills, arriving at my office while the rest of the city was still arising. Here and there some shopkeeper would be sweeping the sidewalk or unlocking their doors, while all was still mostly quiet.
Then I had a night job, where one of my great pleasures was watching the sun rise over west L.A. from the top floors of a hospital.
There is something peaceful and magical and promising about each morning. It's as if the world looks cleaner somehow, and full of possibility.
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