Fergie, you know, my Staffie, was up at 4:50AM this morning. Yesterday it was 5:05AM. It’s been this way since I got her. Killer. I’d given up early morning risings when I retired to write full time. And then along came Fergie. But it’s good for me, in a medicine-y way. It shifts things around, keeps me flexible, makes me rethink time. I hadn’t experienced the dawning of a Brand New Day before without the pressure of work hanging over it; even on vacation, which has its own pressures. I’m finding that these predawn hours are becoming magical again, like they were when I was a kid back in Africa, when I ran on nothing but imagination.