Anyone who knows me well knows that I am not a morning person. I like to ease into my day slowly, with a gradual awakening to the chirping of birds, generally a good hour or two beyond the time when first light has made its daily appearance. It’s not laziness! It’s actually a byproduct of being a very productive night person, tending to do a lot of my best work in the 9PM to 1AM range. That being said, I am not a really late sleeper – not like I was in my high school and college weekend days, when I’d roll out on or around 11. Nowadays I do tend to feel a little out of sorts if I sleep past 930. So I try to exit the warm, down-comforted confines of my bed and have my one cup of daily coffee in hand on or before that.
But there are days. There are always days. Days when I have to be up. Days when I want to be up. And on those days it does feel nice to greet the morning with the sun, watching the early rays spread their fingers across my dining room, looking forward to what’s in store and wondering who else is meeting the morning right now.
My aversion to mornings also has to do with photography. Typically I am more of a fan of late afternoon light for portraits – there’s something about the quality, the color, that appeals to me. And I like that rather than getting brighter, it eases into dusk and some of the most phenomenal moments for photography. And it also tends to be warmer and thus more pleasing when photographing in the winter months in the South.
But then there are mornings. There are always mornings. Mornings when I just know that the location I have in mind is going to shine, and that the dew and frost from the previous night are going to glow in the embrace of the warming sun. Today was one of those days. So yes, mornings are worth it. As long as they don’t come every day.