When the sun starts to wake up earlier, the people start to wake up earlier.  A general rule of thumb. And for those of you out there for whom this is a horrible, daunting truth, allow me to illuminate, if you will, the silver lining.

The early morning is like a cleansing bath. Not only are we faced with the brand newness of the coming hours, but also we are offered glimpses of the purity of our surroundings and perhaps the people that inhabit them. The lines of the mountains are crisp and silent, the depth of field seems to go on for infinity. The folks spilling out of the coffeeshop in their ski gear are headed to that frozen altar, offering themselves up to the mountain and the winter air. In a few hours they will be cutting turns in the glorious powder, pure as angels.

But all is not roses, either. Skiers on their way to the Glory congregate around a large black Ford Explorer, kicking the tires, adjusting the skis, and wiping the morning out of their eyes as the car runs in place, defrosting. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes, this massive car idles by the curb, the engine well beyond warmed, while its passengers drink their americanos. So much for clean.

And then another blow a bit later on. Turning the corner onto the street with the old, gnarly row of cherry trees, the ones that cover the ground in baby pink dream snow come spring, I am shocked to discover all but one of them completely dismembered. Is this some kind of ritual trimming, or will they be gone for good in a few days?

Waking up earlier is the gift of a few minutes of extra time. To go and see things that might not be there the next time you were planning to visit. To trump the proverbial tree-cutters. To bathe in the light of morning, half-dreaming, half-pretending. To wash ourselves of yesterday’s dirt, and to try and make less dirt today.  

Note: The next few weeks, the demands of that great force we call music will bring this writer to towns and cities across America. If the column begins to sound more like a travelogue, then so be it, but remember: it’s always sunrise somewhere.