Two photos taken at 6:30 and at about a mile and a quarter into my morning run.  They were taken three days apart, the photo on the left this past Saturday and the photo on the right Tuesday of this week.  In between, of course, the dawn, as it were, of daylight saving time.

On Saturday the sun rose at 7:02, so by 6:30 early light lit my morning path.  And, yes, we had a coating of snow the night before.  The sun would not make its formal Tuesday appearance until 7:58, so there was barely a hint of any light at 6:30, save that reflected by the setting moon.

All in all, I am not a daylight saving time fan, especially since we moved to Indiana.  Indiana happens to be at the far western edge of the eastern time zone.  Friends in Philadelphia, rosy-fingered dawn spreads her light across your sky 42 minutes before we have so much of a suggestion of her arrival.

I was just growing accustomed to being able to dowse my chest lamp, switch off my light vest, and listen to the singing of the songbirds (and the honking of the Canada geese) when I was plunged back into silent darkness.  Grumble.

Ben Franklin and Woodrow Wilson, your idea for saving daylight is a sham. In fact, you stole an hour of from light my morning run and gave it to the guy down the street who likes to squeeze in nine holes at the local golf course after work. Grumble.

Feeling sorry for myself (and justifiably so), I almost did not notice the beauty of the setting moon that has been my morning companion these first days of daylight saving time.  And even in this dark week, the songbirds are singing by the time I’ve finished my jog.  According to the almanac, we’ll be back to a 7:03 sunrise on April 13 and a 7:01 sunrise on April 14. Just a month to go. And during that month I will experience again the joy of seeing morning light and hearing singing birds (and honking geese) a little earlier each morning.  And with sunset at 8:19, my neighbor may be able to go 18 holes at the golf course.

If it were up to me, I would cancel daylight saving time forever.  There’s something really wrong about it.  But it is not up to me, so in the meantime I will keep my chest lamp shining and my light vest glowing as I watch my dark mornings grow light day by day.  I will make the sweet psalmist of Israel my running companion as he reminds me of a life with God,

His anger is but for a moment,
and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30:5 ESV)