There was a time when I was far more likely to be lucid at 1 a.m. than at 6 a.m. I think I could remember those days more clearly if I could have just one more cup of coffee right now.
Today, I have little choice but to be a morning person.
This is my child:
She wants to be a farmer.
So she gets up at the crack of dawn to practice milking cows.
But there are upsides to this quirk of hers. Like light. Early morning light is supposed to be better for photography.
So we went out the other morning in the 6 o’clock hour. We put shoes on with our jammies, left our sippy cups on the stairs, and opened up the sandbox.
We watched the sun rise in the sky and leave dappled light all over our trees and grass and that crummy fence our neighbors don’t quite maintain.
Miss D. joined us at a slightly more reasonable hour, clad in a T-shirt that would make her Red Sox-loving relatives groan with physical pain.
And we all hung out and stared at the sky until the August Alabama sun forced us back into the air-conditioned house.
This post is in response to the You Capture assignment at I Should Be Folding Laundry. Head on over there to see more photographs of morning.
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