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A lie-in holds no attraction to me; breakfast in bed is not a relaxing treat. Give me an early morning over a late one any day. As the Spring Equinox heralds the lighter mornings and longer evenings, there is so much more incentive to rise early and make the most of the best part of the day.
The early morning is a gift, a time before being a parent and running a house and business begins. The early morning is an opportunity to squeeze something more from the day; a chance to do something extra. Modern life is tough, we are constantly being pulled in different directions; to look good, have enough money, have a good job, to be a great parent and smoothly run a clean and attractive house. This leads to exhausted, over-worked, stressed and depressed people; time-poor is a buzz-word which means so much to most people. And yet here is this unique time of the day which, you can take ownership of. The morning is beautiful wherever you live. When I lived in the city I would creep downstairs and quietly let myself into the garden to listen to the birds or the exciting sound of the city waking up; a bus passing, a lorry unloading provisions, the footsteps on the pavement of an early morning dog-walker. I would sit and enjoy the changing colours in the sky, the seagulls passing overhead, the absence of people needing my time and attention. Sometimes I would rise and sit at my desk and write or plan; the morning can be a time when creative sap is rising and there is some time and space to indulge thoughts and ideas freely before the day encroaches. Now that I live in the countryside my morning is special in a different way. All winter I have craved the return of the spring so that I can get outside and enjoy the utter calm before the storm of getting a family fed, clothed, correctly matched with the right swim bag and musical instrument and out of the house. Now I tip-toe down the stairs, sometimes with enough time to boil the kettle for tea before I summon dog and cats, don coat and boots and strike out into the morning. At the moment the birds are warming up towards their busiest time of the year, and the sky is so changeable; one morning an eerie orange light combined with a misty haze, the next pale blue and pink, another white tinged with grey, like a doves back. There is a definite feeling of expectation; blossom is ready to burst, buds are swelling, the first leaves are slowly unfurling.
The other morning my husband spotted a pair of deer close by, so I decided to go and look myself. In case you are planning a deer-seeking expedition, may I suggest that your socks fit snugly in your Wellingtons, which must be in perfect working order. I left the house and slinked into the woods as quietly as possible. As it happened this was not terribly quietly. My socks did not fit snugly; they were too thin, so that one welly emitted a sucking noise followed by a rude-sounding escape of air. I walked uncomfortably on my toes to solve the problem, but the buckle on my other welly had broken lose and jingled with each footstep- suck, parp, jingle, suck, parp, jingle. It was simply hopeless. For miles around the liquid-eyed and graceful deer fled at the approach of what sounded like a rampaging, flatulent Morris dancer. The morning was empty of deer, but it was still fresh and unspoilt; not yet a harsh word, a stressed thought, a mobile ring tone, a car engine; only peace and promise.
The morning is a blank page; you can write on it what you wish. That is why it is so special; you can believe that anything is possible (even if it isn’t). And if it is just the same busy, busy, crazy day as it always is, there is tomorrow morning, waiting like an un-opened gift. This evening, turn off the TV, go to bed a little earlier, and set your alarm; even a half hour to sit with a mug of tea in the fresh morning air will enrich your day, lift your mood and give you a small secret space away from everything that life throws at you.