During the period of my life when I commuted downtown, I remember enjoying these early hours. Waking before 6, leaving for Metro in the darkness, the winding two-lane roads quiet and still. I’d relish the gloaming, easy on the eyes. Often, the sun would rise as I was driving, a faint light in the east.

Now I watch day break from my upstairs office. Orange-leaved trees emerge from darkness, first the witch hazel, then the crepe myrtle. The time change has given me back this pleasure. My eyes pop open at 5:30 instead of 6:30.

I like getting a jump on the day. I like being a lark. I’m just more of one now.