I have never been a morning person but in the last few months I have found that, particularly at the weekends, I am waking earlier. I delight in quietly dressing and creeping downstairs (usually accompanied by a cat) to make coffee and sit in the silence of the day.
The coffee made, I usually let the chickens out, revelling in the dew drenched grass. Hugo, the cockerel, doodle-do's, stretching his wings and proclaiming his territory.
Particularly now that it is light and warm in the mornings I like to sit in the garden surrounded by birdsong. A book or magazine to read.
I find it is a precious quiet time, time to be by myself, time to just be . . . I resent intrusion into this time.
It is just for me.