early morning

It was daylight savings this weekend. I've been awake since before 5am, lying in bed with my head buzzing but not quite feeling like I'd had enough sleep to get up. The big girls woke up before six. I sent them back to their room and now they are lying in Isobella's bed together talking and telling stories.

This is so much easier than a few years ago. I remember a time when a week of 5:30am wake-ups was de rigour for daylight savings change-over. And you can't just send a toddler back to bed. I used to dread daylight savings.

But I actually love being awake at this time of the morning. It's my favourite time to write, and in the past I've managed periods of time where I went to bed early enough to get up at 5am and write. That's my dream. I can't tell you how many times that husband of mine has heard me say "if I can just start going to bed earlier I'll be able to get up early and write." He'll believe it when he sees it.

Then there's Lent, and that very appropriate intention to be in bed early. Nine-thirty in the evening actually. Which is a lot earlier than the eleven o'clock or later I had been going to bed ever since Abigail was born (and she's nearly two!) At first it was survival with a windy baby, and then it just became a habit I couldn't get out of.

Go on, ask me how I'm doing with that Lenten intention. The answer is, if you are judging purely on the actual time I've been getting to bed, I'm doing pretty averagely. But if you could some-how see into my heart or read my mind you'd realise there's been a change. Going to bed is a priority now, rather than just something that eventually happens after everything else at the end of the night. I start thinking about going to bed as soon as dinner is over. I sometimes leave dishes, washing, and blogging to the side in order to get to bed. The girls are often not in bed themselves until 8:30pm so that doesn't leave much time. And given that we have our house on the market and have two open homes every weekend, and had Isobella's birthday last weekend, there's been plenty of necessary work that has meant that a 9:30pm bedtime has sometimes been unrealistic.

Enter daylight savings. Last night the girls were in bed by 7pm. It was nearly dark and I found myself getting tired and thinking about bed at 8pm. It has been light until eight or nine in the evening since last September. Summer days are lovely and long but they give a false sense of endlessness. They call us outside with promises of hours and hours to play and work. They give us the thrill of possibility, they ignite our dreams, and they spur our industry on.

Now the slanting autumn light is a constant reminder that time is passing, slipping between my fingers. Yesterday went so quickly. Dusk settled as we ate dinner and then without us even noticing it shifted to dark. Cold weather is still months away, so cosy is not needed, and yet the darkness still comforts. It gently shrinks our world until the only thing that matters is the pile of dishes in the sink, the apple cooking on the stove. Anything else belongs to another day.