There’s something very special about early morning. Ivor Gurney called it “day’s most sacred hour”.
Night has passed and a new day is beginning and I’ve been sitting, with a cup of tea, looking out on the garden.
I’m the only one awake in this house and it appears that there’s no sign of life yet among the neighbours. The ever present sound of traffic through the village near by is at a minimum. As far as I am concerned it’s just me alone with the dawn. To sit and take in the quietness and the stillness is exhilarating.
The birds, of course, have beaten me to it. It is surprising how many different songs I can still hear in the surrounding gardens. All my senses are involved; as well as the silence and the stillness there is the smell of the wet grass and the scent of ‘productive decay’ among the carpet of leaves, still lying where they fell a few weeks ago. It’s a heavenly moment.