About being the only one awake and up and about in a big, sprawling bungalow out in the country in the middle of The Field.
Something furtive and stealthy about toasting the bagel and setting up the coffee press with pre-ground coffee from a yellow bag or choosing the beans and sneaking into the remotest corner of the house with the doors closed to grind them.
Something deliciously serene about having the house to myself... no idle conversation that must be made, no noise but the ticking of the cuckoo-clock in the next room and the bathroom fan down the hall.
The sun room windows are begging to be opened, and I know there will be a cool, crisp "spring in the meadow" breeze and bird songs to waft over the green striped chair in the corner.
Good morning, Field Dwellers.
Welcome home, Self.