earlybirdI’m a morning person. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I find that I do my best work in the morning, exercise better in morning, and have a better attitude in the morning. Mornings are magical.

Take this morning for instance. The alarm went off at 5 am, and I’ll tell you I did not want to get out of bed. I had just rolled over and became comfy when the clock began its incessant beeping. Ugh…the thought of resetting the alarm so I could get another half hour of z’s was tempting.

But I got up and made my tea, trolled facebook, used my 5 lives in Candy Crush (stupid level 437) and then began my morning freelance work. As I sat there typing away, I heard a bird making the most incredible song. He was singing “Figaro” – those three notes sung in Figaro’s Aria – over and over. Figaro! Figaro! It was so sweet, and nobody up to enjoy it but me.

There’s a smell and a feel to the morning that you don’t get at any other time of day. The air smells clean and cool. There’s a dampness you can almost feel and see as the morning light begins to kiss the earth. It’s the time of day when you see bunnies in search of sweet clover, and some times a turtle or two if it’s been particularly rainy. It’s so beautiful and the best part is the whole day is still ahead of you – filled with possibilities.

I’m one of those people who are up with the sun. Even on weekends, if I wake up and see that it’s light out, I’m out of bed in an instant – I don’t want to waste the morning! It may be because my dad was a morning person. If we were sleeping in late as kids he’d come up and roust us out of bed as if we were committing a horrible crime. I guess I learned that lesson early on.

When we would be vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard each summer, my dad would pick one morning for us to go fishing. When I was a little squirt everyone would go, and I rarely got a fishing pole. But as the years went by, I was the only one who was still interested in this early morning ritual – everyone else opted to stay in bed and sleep. Not me! What a waste!

Beach Road BridgeWe’d wake at 5:30. Dad would pour me a glass of cranberry juice, we’d eat some toast, and off we went! We’d head to the Edgartown docks or the bridge along beach road, and drop our lines in the water. The air would be cool – you needed a jacket – and the water was so still. All you heard was the sounds of the seagulls, the water lapping against the pylons, and the occasional splash of a fish. I always caught sea robins.

When I was in my twenties, I used to go to my friend Paul’s home near Hunter Mountain – what they call “going up the country” in my old stomping grounds. When we’d head up there for the weekend, we’d party late into the night on Fridays, but on Saturday mornings I was always the first one up. I’d dress, and head out to take a walk down the road – not so much for exercise – but just to start my day peacefully. I’d gaze at the scenery, peoples homes, the farm animals that might be out in the pasture.

It’s like I was all alone in the world because for the most part, the world hadn’t woken up yet.

That’s why I love mornings. The world gets so busy during the day with cars and people and sirens and radios and screaming kids in shopping carts. Yet when I’m out in the morning, I might only see a handful of people. You pass them on your walk and you think to yourself, “Yep. They get it.”

 

 

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