My entire life I’ve struggled with getting up in the morning. For a brief period when I was a little girl, I would get dressed in my school clothes the night before so I could sleep just a little longer in the morning. In the winter, to get me out of bed, my mom would wake me by telling me it snowed outside. For some reason it always worked, and I would jump out of bed and run to the window only to be disappointed. There was actually good reason to not want out of bed when I was young: we only had a wood stove to heat the house, and if the fire hadn’t been burning for a while, it was freezing when we got up. That was an excuse during the cold months, but really my problem persisted year round.
As an adult, I’m a serial snoozer on weekdays. There’s never anything that sounds more appealing than laying in bed for a few more minutes. Often I don’t eat breakfast until I get to work, if at all. My morning routine is frantic, and usually ends in me running out the door with just minutes to catch the bus five blocks away.
The weekends are another story though. One of my favorite things about Saturday or Sunday mornings is that I get to wake up early and enjoy a nice home cooked breakfast. Eggs and coffee are always on the menu, but the rest varies. Sometimes steamed kale with preserved lemon and olive oil, and other times toast and jam. The morning after returning from Florida, I made poached eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Simple and delicious.
This photo was taken with my film camera.