7am bakery time

And I keep meaning to tell you all about the sunrises that I see through the bakery window on Saturday mornings. They are always startlingly delightful to the very grumpy girl stocking baguettes and cookies while fighting back yawns.

Fuschia and tangerine would be more at home in a Venusian landscape or a beach sunset off of Tahiti, not the dead of a North Carolina January morning. The colors seem totally out of place streaming through the atmosphere they inhabit, which is wintry dry and cold and bony.

It's enchanting. It's one of precious few instances that I've understood what madness compels a "morning person."