Up with the Chickens

It's now 7:25 am on a Saturday. I've been up for a couple of hours. All the critters are fed with water and fresh hay.

If you had told me back in High School that I'd be up at dawn every day I'd have said you were nuts. But early morning has become my favorite time. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe if I were on a farm with lots of acres I'd feel peaceful all day long.

Early morning here is damp. There's a heavy dew from the night's humidity. The sunlight is different, too. It's more white and clean. Later in the morning the sunlight is more yellow. Does that make sense? Can you tell I grew up in an artist household?

Early morning is just for the critters and me. It feels like a little private time before the racket of lawn mowers and pulp wood trucks begins.

I'm not anywhere close to where I expected to be. But I love it.