I have the complete works of Eudora Welty. The idea of reading a bit of her writing with a portion of Flannery O'Conner's book "The Habit of Being" about an hour before sunrise and my house is quiet. And like a pianist playing an impassioned, loud piece of music, I start typing my masterpiece. You're never too old to dream or embellish in my case.
The reality is at 5 am, I call my brother on his cell phone and tell him to get up. Usually, I go back to sleep. My two dogs know we don't wake the house up until daylight comes. It gets light outside at about 6:30 am. But pandemonium happens when we get up. We have a pack of chihuahua mixes that can create a cacophony that I am sure startles the dead for their three mile run and my half mile stroll.
Upon return, all dogs go to their daytime beds in the house and I take my brother to the bus that will take him to the workshop he attends. Then I feed the hounds which concludes with another walk. I cook breakfast for the others in the house. I assist my sister with her morning rituals before she eats. Since I have energy in the morning, I do chores. Somehow during this time, I've taken the garbage out, tossed the scrap bowl in the front field, washed dishes, made coffee, and a couple of odds and ends like starting a load of clothes in the washer.
So the books sets primly on a bookcase. I have read several of Eudora Welty's short stories. Being a Southerner, so much written about the South seems a bit overdrawn and false. But the characters drawn by Welty probably existed somewhere besides Welty's mind.
Welty was known as well for her photography as for her writing. A sense of place tells part of her stories which melds with keen observations of how people relate to one another. Welty employs mythological symbolism in her work.