The foggy mist made ringlets of my hair and the clumps of dirt turned to mud under my fingernails as I weeded the walk of clover just after 7:30am.  I have always loved those early hours before the sun bakes the earth in the summer or when the stillness of winter’s frozen ground is as silent as the air.  I’m tempted to say that spring is my favorite season, when the birds chatter on and on as they build nests in the Chinese dogwood or in the tall pear tree. But on autumn mornings, when the sky is pink and the leaves are gold and the chill in the air requires a sweatshirt and my breath escapes in a fog from my lips, my favorite season might change, but my favorite hour is always shortly past dawn.  
I contemplated today why I like those first few hours after waking, and as I was pulling clover from the walk I came to a sudden conclusion. I am in love with the potential the day holds at that hour. And I am easily seduced by potential. Potential is exciting. Potential is motivating. Potential gives my future endless possibilities.
The more I thought about this revelation, the more I saw how this attraction to potential continually shapes my life.   I fell in love with a house that needed repair but had a great view.  I am attracted to young horses that need training. I love a good interview that has yet to be transcribed and get excited by the potential of the story to be written.  I love that moment before designing a website when I have all the pieces in files waiting to be built. Potential lures me in despite the work ahead.  I am seduced by the potential in everything.