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lauraanne_gilmanThere is something quite lovely about early mornings (pre-dawn) in the summer. I suspect part of it has to do, simply, with the fact that its actually cooler. Birds chirp, breeze stirs, and otherwise it's totally still and fresh and filled with unbaked potential.
In a few hours, all that will be gone (It's supposed to be in the upper 80's and humid again, and for the near future).
Part of my fondness for summer mornings probably dates back to when I was a wee meerkat kit, and my family would take two weeks off at the end of August to go off on a family vacation, usually to Vermont. My dad and I, at least once, would wake up at oh god early, take out the canoe or rowboat or whatever came with the house we were renting, and go fishing.
Catching fish was a plus, but it wasn't the point. Sitting in that stillness, the only sound the slapping of water against the sides of the boat, and the occasional water-carried noise of another early morning riser across the lake, munching on granola bars... wordless father/daughter bonding that stood the test of the rest of the year, when he and I could get into an argument over pretty much anything, at the drop of a hat.
(and every now and again we actually did catch something worth eating, and there's nothing quite like fresh-grilled trout and toast for breakfast, especially when someone else cleans it for you)
Soon enough, it'll be time to pour the caffeine, get to work. I have deadlines to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. But for now, I can sit here and enjoy the breeze, and the quiet, and be still. And remember.
In a few hours, all that will be gone (It's supposed to be in the upper 80's and humid again, and for the near future).
Part of my fondness for summer mornings probably dates back to when I was a wee meerkat kit, and my family would take two weeks off at the end of August to go off on a family vacation, usually to Vermont. My dad and I, at least once, would wake up at oh god early, take out the canoe or rowboat or whatever came with the house we were renting, and go fishing.
Catching fish was a plus, but it wasn't the point. Sitting in that stillness, the only sound the slapping of water against the sides of the boat, and the occasional water-carried noise of another early morning riser across the lake, munching on granola bars... wordless father/daughter bonding that stood the test of the rest of the year, when he and I could get into an argument over pretty much anything, at the drop of a hat.
(and every now and again we actually did catch something worth eating, and there's nothing quite like fresh-grilled trout and toast for breakfast, especially when someone else cleans it for you)
Soon enough, it'll be time to pour the caffeine, get to work. I have deadlines to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. But for now, I can sit here and enjoy the breeze, and the quiet, and be still. And remember.
