Morning comes late out here on the western edge of the eastern time zone. It’s 8 a.m. and the day is still groggy and gray.

If I lived here full-time, I might be less a morning person, more a creature of the night. In summer it’s light here till 10 p.m. and even in winter it’s long past 5 before the day goes away.

I think how far the light has to travel, what it passes on the way. The hills and hollows, cities and towns, birds and trees. Daylight sweeping east to west, bringing us morning …  one hour late.