Posts Tagged With: mornings

My Window Escapades

Friday Letter to my Kids –

Dear J, J, L and L,

I used to climb out of my bedroom window when I was younger.

It’s not what you think at all. I didn’t slink out when grounded, or try go with friends late at night, or to sneak off with some guy. Nope.

I climbed out in the early morning hours around sunrise, usually on a Saturday.

Unlike my siblings, I loved early mornings. I loved the quiet before everyone was awake. Seemed like a natural thing to lean towards with three brothers and three sisters. Our house seldom knew the meaning of silence.

Problem was, Mom and Dad rose early as well. No way could anyone wake up earlier than they did. I just wanted silence and the freedom to think and be and ease into my day. On emerging from my bedroom one of them would hear me, or see me or speak to me and the magic of the morning shattered and fell like so much crystal around my feet.

So, I learned to climb out of my bedroom window. We had windows with a crank that opened like a door. And fortunately for me, a small brick ledge circled that part of the house under my bedroom window. Then I lowered myself so I could reach that ledge with my toes, just barely. Then holding to the woodwork on the house, I’d ease my way around to the side and shimmy down a drain pipe.

When I got a little older and braver I’d just jump from the ledge. (I’ve looked at that ledge as an adult and it isn’t that high, five feet up at the most. )

Free from the possibility of running into family, I often wandered to the park down the street, or over to the apricot orchard. It just felt good to not have anyone know what I was doing or where I was going.

Sounds scary and dangerous in today’s world, but back then, in the Jurassic period, I felt safe enough. I wasn’t usually gone very long. Mostly I just wanted time to wake up with my own thoughts to wander among. I loved, even way back then, to watch the day begin. I especially liked watching the shadow of the mountain near us grow shorter as the sun rose higher.

As you can imagine, getting back in the house through my open window wasn’t as easy as getting out. Usually there was a woodpile, or a wheelbarrow, or some contraption leaning against the house that I could use to boost myself to the ledge. A quick side stepping got me back to the window and inside easy enough.

I wonder now if the neighbors ever mentioned seeing me climbing out or in to my parents. Probably not, or I’d have heard about it.

Having enjoyed my morning and some quiet, I could cheerfully enter the household fray. (My mom would say I wasn’t very cheerful, especially as a teenager, and that’s true, but that was mostly on school days.)

What you see isn’t always what you think you’re seeing.

I’m not sure I could have put that into words as a kid. I’d have probably really caught some flak if I’d have gotten caught. It would’ve been worth whatever punishment I’d have earned. Luckily that never happened.

I’m still very much a morning person. If your Dad wakes up early it can throw my whole day out of kilter. Poor guy. Poor aggravated me. But, that doesn’t happen too often. Good thing.

So, now you know one of my childhood secrets.

Lots of Love,

Mom

~~~~~

"Bluebird of Happymess"

“Bluebird of Happymess”

“People could behave how they liked, but Allan considered that in general it was quite unnecessary to be grumpy if you had the chance not to.” ~Jonas Jonasson

Categories: Family, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Don’t Use Your Words, At Least, Not Just Yet

It’s Gratituesday! Silence. Yes, silence. That’s my grateful thought today.

From what I can tell, not a lot of people are out and about at the real beginning of the day. Not too many get to see such sights as this, live and in person.

Ya gotta get out of bed pretty dang early to see this kind of thing.

Ya gotta get out of bed pretty dang early to see this kind of thing.

I don’t mind either.

I love, love, love my morning quiet. My ME time. I love not having to engage my vocal cords until I’ve been awake a few hours.

This isn’t a recent development either. I recall as a teen, back in the dark ages just after the dinosaurs died off, snarking at my Mom for having the audacity to speak to me before I’d been awake a full hour. I just wanted quiet. I wanted nothing more than silence and a non-requirement for speech, until I felt fully awake, all gears turning, internal meters running.

Thing is, with so many siblings, three sisters, three brothers, plus the requisite two parental units, I didn’t get much quiet time. Ever. Especially not in the morning. My parents apparently rose before the sun, went to bed sometime after midnight. In fact, I wonder if they ever slept.

And I shared a bedroom.

My entire life, I have shared a bedroom with someone. At home, sisters. At college, dorm mates and room mates. Then married, a husband.

I kinda want to know what it’s like to have my own room.

Luckily MSH seems allergic to mornings, so, now that the fledglings have flown, I have mornings to myself. Long, quiet, uninterrupted stretches of silence, solitude, and general perfection.

I hate to waste a second of it on the mundane tasks of the day, like sleeping in,  or eating, or chores or errands.

Why do such ordinary things when I can think uninterrupted, or write, or walk, or bike, or simply sit and observe the day unfolding.

Yes, early rising required for a live viewing of such sights.

Yes, early rising required for a live viewing of such sights.

I revel in my mornings, the sun just peeking out, tentative and sometimes even colorful. I love the different sort of silence of bird chatter. I love that traffic hasn’t reached a fever pitch and I can still hear the leaves rustling when a slight breeze ruffles through. I love the melodic and distant sounding wind chimes adding their bits to the silence.

The light inside the house so early in the day, a soft, reflected, easy on the eyes glow prods the senses awake gently, slowly. Don’t we all deserve such tenderness at the beginning of a day?

Days that start with long silences and soft light, that require no spoken words for a while, always result in more calm throughout, regardless of what’s thrown at me once the talking starts.

Am I spoiled? Heck no. I earned this quiet, this time of me-ness. And I’ll defend it to the death. Although, from what I’ve seen, few want to claim these hours as their own. So I anticipate no battles.

I know there are households with young tots where such luxuries reside only in dreams. Where sleep is what one does with the beginning and ending edges of the night. I know insistent hungry voices clamber on to beds and snuggle under warm blankets and push and shove and disturb peace at all hours.

And such knowledge makes me all the more grateful for my early uninterrupted hours.

If I’d known such mercies existed, I’d have looked to the future with more hope than I did. Ah, sweet mornings. How I love thee.

The rest of you, please, just keep sleeping in so I can have my silence and my alone time.

 

Sweet, yes?

Sweet, yes?

“Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom.” ~ Francis Bacon

 

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Mental Health, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Not Your Usual Morning Walk

Most early mornings bring me sleepy-headed and blurry wandering through my house. I open blinds, pull back curtains and let the day in so it can rouse me. The last step in this daily ritual finds me at the front door. I ease back the lock and open the door to whatever the morning might be holding for me.

Since I’m still in pajamas  with my hair a mangled mess I stand to the side of the doorway and peer out, as if letting someone into the house. I take a deep breath, and with it take a measure of the day. Clouds on the horizon feel hopeful although experience tells me little will come of them. There might be a breeze ruffling the trees tiny leaves or a bird flinging rocks in search of bugs. The park across the street might be hosting a dog, a frisbee and its owner. The colors in the sky could be almost any sixty-four count crayon box choice or a mix of them.

This habit I’ve somehow fallen into, of opening the front door every morning, has become a great way to open up the day.

photo-11 copy 10Some mornings, not very often, I feel pulled outside in spite of my state of undress and pillow ruffled hair. I might step out at the sound of a surprising bird call or a bit of rain, although the rain seldom happens in the morning here. I might venture out to look at a new bloom or an insect working its way across the porch rug. Whatever the cause for my foray past the lintel I have entered the outside world and broken the morning spell.

I live on a busy neighborhood through-street and keep myself within a few quick steps of the doorway, making it easy to disappear from view should a car drive past. The last thing I want is to come face to face, or face to car, still bleary-eyed and unprepared for the day. For those few moments I like to imagine I’m alone in my morningness, waking early, deliberately and mindfully.

On such mornings, when I do step back inside through the front door, I step through a door of anticipation. After such a beginning, a pair of birds chattering, a cat slinking about, a soft scent in the air, a dog running past down the street, the sheen of dew on the grass, the day holds only promise and possibility.

Instead of the usual feel of dullness my to-do list brings, I find on its page opportunity and meaning. The hurriedness of the day fades into a looking forward, to an excitement at the challenge of meeting deadlines. The usual aches and worries of the day sift through a screen door of anticipation and become evidence of a life rich with purpose and promise.

Categories: Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , | 9 Comments

The Sun Rises on a New Day

Mornings are second chances. Another day to try to get things right.

Perhaps that’ why mornings feel so good to me. The earlier I am up, the greater the potential for getting a firm grip on the day. That, of course, requires a discipline in the evening that I seem to lack lately. Early days can’t happen if the night lasts too late.

Living with a bunch of night owls makes it tough to go to bed at a “decent” time. I don’t want to miss out on anything or anyone.

Then I see a sun rise, like this one and I’m reminded of that second chance feeling. Perhaps I need some sunrise photos displayed near my bed, to coax me under the covers.

alternate sunrise photo

There’s so much I miss in a morning when I stay in bed. Besides the sun rise, there’s the first songs the birds call out, the coolness of the air, the fresh feeling that early light bestows on every object.

And the quiet. The quiet in the morning, especially on a weekend morning, settles me in a way little else can.

My life overflows with noise. One of the most precious commodities I know is stillness, quietness, silence.

That alone should remind me that I want, no, crave, an early morning.

A second chance waits for me tomorrow.  Until then, I’ll see what I can do with the one I got this morning.

Categories: Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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