Morning often begins early at the Hideaway. Moving east 5 years means that dawn come earlier than it has for nearly the last forty years. I don't use the alarm clock in retirement. Besides the early dawn light attempting to shine through the slats of our bedroom blinds, there's the mockingbird that seems to enjoy the crape myrtle trees in the front yard as he greets the morning with a repertoire of brief melodies. And the school bus from the county to the south turns around in the cul-de-sac at 6:30 with the required beeping sound when the driver puts it in reverse. And this time of year, flocks of Canada Geese transfer from one pond to another, honking an encouragement to the youngsters to keep us as they fly in formation. It's good that I am awake before all this starts. And now we have two outdoor cats that wait on the deck and look through the door anticipating that Judy or I will go out into the garage to open a can of food. I make my pot of coffee, with a little more than a cup, and sit in the great room if it's too chilly to sit outside. And this week the sun streams through our front door in a straight line and illuminates the top of our treasure table. And I notice the morning light. And I give thanks, for another day.