So that brings me back to the original question of my very early awakenings. I've always been an early riser and run well on 6-7 hours of sleep. My work I structured around an early schedule when I could and employers could count on me to be there early, every day. I think the world is simply divided between those of us who are more productive early as to those who work better late. Now, I have no alarm going off telling me to be some place at a certain time. I haven't needed an alarm, since well High School. So why do I drag out of bed at 3:30 in the morning ( 4:30 when the clocks spring forward)?
The quiet mostly. I can putter, write, knit, think and do it all with no noise, no interruption. I also love going out into the darkness to feed the animals. There
is no light pollution up here, only the brilliant night sky or the swirling snow or the patter of rain. I get a two kitty escort every morning. Juno and Buzz meet me at the front door to walk with me to the barn. I only have a headlamp. The barn has no lights
and neither does tractor Bob. I check for Bond the Skunk or anything else that might want to get out of the barn and feed the escorts and then load a bale of hay to tractor up to the paddock. As I'm riding up I catch the numerous sets of disembodied eyes waiting for me to bring breakfast. Sometimes Dandy has a soft inpatient whinny for me and sometimes Cooper. The boys wait while I get in, politely milling around their feeding stations. No kicking, no grabbing hay off the flakes while I sort and deliver.
It's all quite wonderful really and I forget that maybe I was dragging ass to get out there 10 minutes before. After the boys are tucked in and the eating is in earnest, I go through and give everyone a pet, check legs and just hang for a bit. In the summer deer
come into the paddock for water and I catch them in my light, other times we all stand
in the wind and snow. Afterwards, it's onto the goatie girls, who have begun to wonder if the maid is ever going to arrive with her pile of hay. They jostle and push each other around my legs like fat furry little hassocks. They spend a few minutes pushing each other around and then settle to breakfast. I check water, fill if need be and then back
the tractor around for the trip back to the barn. Many times I walk down the driveway, headlamp off, listening for owls, or watching the sky. Often I see a shooting star especially in the clear winter sky or I look in the fresh snow (or mud) to see what might have travelled up our driveway. In summer the the start of dawn and chorus of birds greeting the new day follows me back to the house. I get up early because I wouldn't want to miss any of it.