A memory from school days long ago is the daily wake-up calls from my mother, who would faithfully and gently shake my shoulder and tell me it was “time to get up.” Getting up was a matter of necessity, not always welcomed. I’m sure there was a sense of routine about it, though I don’t remember all those details. In broad terms, it was getting dressed, a quick bowl of cereal, brushing teeth, and then out the door to catch the bus. One morning, a pheasant crashed through one of the living room windows and landed on the floor half-way across the room. That was not part of the daily routine.
In any event, early morning has become the best time of day, especially at this time of year when the birds start singing at 4:30 or so, and the din of morning commutes is still a ways off. The mind is relatively fresh, even before coffee!