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I love breakfast. I mean, I seriously love it.
So much so, that “breakfast for dinner” is not that uncommon at my house–in part, because our hens provide us with an ample supply of eggs.
It probably has something to do with the fact that I’m an early riser. To me, “early” is anywhere between 4 and 6 AM. For most people 8 AM is early; for me, by the time 8 AM rolls around I usually have a pretty good start on my day.
Breakfast has historically been a significant source of fuel for farmers and others who engage in physically demanding work. As a child, my father used to remind me that I was “burning daylight” if I lingered in bed too long. He wasn’t kidding either. My list of chores was long, and there were only so many hours of daylight to get them completed.
While I may not be farming these days like my father and grandfather, I still love breakfast. My husband and I frequently start our mornings at a local diner on the weekend before we tackle our list of projects and errands.
I enjoy the sound of clanking dishes, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the lively conversations all around me. But I also love that my husband and I can spend time together without having to clean up the kitchen afterward.
Also, some days you just need pumpkin pancakes.