Crispy

I forget that mornings are so crispy and fresh. I'm trying a new insomnia tactic, setting my alarm in the morning, which worked last night. I got up at 8 after 3ish hours of sleep, and groggy though I was, the crispiness soothed me. I painted, coffeed, walked around the lake, and it was still daytime. There were so many hours of daylight yesterday! Went to sleep at midnight, and up at 10. It's still morning! Writing skills seem to be slipping, but who's judging, right?

Each hour of the day has it's own distinct quality, and I hate to miss any of them. Morning crispiness is a novelty, so I'll check that out for a while. The 11am hour is curious, you can see the sky thinking. Which way should I go today? Regardless of the morning being bright or dim, 11 seems to go neutral gray to reform it's plan.

I'd be hard pressed to pick a favorite, Bob, but 3am, it might be. The night is ending, traffic is an occasional hum. I turn off my music to hear the silence between the finally crashed barking dogs and the soon to be awake screeching birds. This has also always been the time when break-in's or domestic ugliness in the hood occur, giving this hour a lurking tension that could shatter the calm at any time. By 4 am, all is clear. (The writers of The Strangers figured that out.)

The trouble with 4 am for me is that morning is beginning, and if I'm still awake at this hour, I don't want to miss what's coming, and I tend to just stay up, which renders me useless for what does come.

5am is just irritating. Unless I'm on my way to an airport or in the 1st hour of a roadtrip. I could easily type away a 24 paragraph essay on the unique qualities of each hour, but now I'd rather be outside.