My alarm clock is set to go off at 5:30 every morning – even on the weekends – and unless I am ill, I get up when the buzzer goes off. If, like me, you have small children, then you will understand I am not masochistic; getting up at the crack of dawn is the only time I will have what resembles peace and quiet for the rest of the day. As a younger adult (pre-children), I always thought it somewhat obscene that my Mom would get up so early in the morning when nothing in the world required her to do so. Now I understand completely and I relish my morning quiet.

Each morning I settle into my solace with a hot cup of Kenyan-elite-runner-strength coffee (and while I am neither Kenyan nor an elite runner, I know what the stuff tastes like … but that is another story for another column). When I am on my A-game, I will set my fancy-schmancy coffee pot the night before so that I wake up not only to a hot brewed pot of coffee deliciousness, but also to the rich aroma those amazing little beans exude. Once my coffee is fixed – for me it is the perfect harmony of cream and coffee – the color of liquid toffee – I savor that first sip and melt into it like a big fuzzy hug.

I listen. It is quiet. This is Nee-Cole time. Time to escape into thought without being questioned about my thoughts. Time to write without having to solve an argument mid-thought or find missing Kitty, Froggy-My or yesterday’s mail. The stillness is mine to enjoy, and enjoy it I do. Time to have conversations with God – out-loud, one-on-one – like he is sitting in the chair next to me. Sometimes it is my time to do absolutely nothing at all but slowly sip my coffee without feeling guilty for not being productive (that comes later in the day).

Now that it is winter, I like to take my coffee outside in the morning. When I step out on our side entrance, I have a view of the side of my neighbor’s house separated from us by our concrete carport and a row of sinewy Bradford Pear trees. There is something very calming about the pre-dawn darkness coupled with the winter chill I feel on my nose, hands and feet. Most mornings, if I am lucky, I catch a glimpse of the moon and a few radiant stars peeking at me through the barren branches of the pear trees. It occurred to me last week that I am playing peek-a-boo with the moon only because it is winter and all of the leaves have died and fallen from the Bradfords’ branches.

I know I have related this before, but here I go again: growing up in Miami, I did not experience a change of seasons. The tropical climate of southern Florida allowed the palm, mango and avocado trees to keep their foliage year round. This is why, eleven years later, I am still captivated by the change of seasons I feel blessed to experience each year. It is, in the true sense of the word, awesome.

With the exception of a few pines, the trees in my neighborhood are an exposed network of intricately woven limbs and branches reaching heaven ward awaiting their spring rebirth. At the risk of sounding macabre, there is a certain graceful beauty about winter death. The trees across my driveway provide a startling framework through which I am able to see the moon, the stars and the flaming hues of orange and pink as the sun rises each morning.

Seasonally speaking, winter has always been associated with death – both literally and metaphorically. In this context, it is understandable that many people suffer depression in the winter months when it is cold and there is more darkness than daylight. Death, however, is not a bad thing. Without death in the winter, we would not be able to witness and appreciate the glorious rebirth of spring – swollen buds preparing to burst forth with new life. Our lives operate in similar natural cycles. Careers, friendships, relationships – sometimes they metaphorically wither and grow dormant – slowly ebbing out of our lives, and for many of us, there is a time that we grieve these losses. Then when we least expect it, we find that we have grown into a new career, blossomed into a new friendship or cultivated a new relationship. As the saying goes, “when one door closes, another one opens.”

Life is an ever evolving process. Change truly is a good thing. Without winter, we wouldn’t appreciate spring. Without sorrow, happiness wouldn’t feel so spectacular! If you should find yourself in a time of winter – when things seem dreary or bleak – enjoy the glowing moon and stars that you can see so well only because there are not leaves obstructing the quiet view. Settle in to the serenity of the winter morning knowing that, in no time at all, the seasons are going to shift and spring is waiting just around the corner pregnant with possibilities all waiting to burst forth and blossom.