It shifts, honestly. There isn’t one global answer because life doesn’t flow in neat boxes of “always this” or “never that.”

I used to love – still love – that golden hour before the world stretches awake. Around 5 a.m., when the birds are tuning up their voices, when the sun slowly peeks in and says, “Here we are, another day.” Sitting on the roof of my car on our slope of land, overlooking the bush reserve, catching sight of water and the distant hills – letting the quiet wrap around me, feeling the world not asking for anything yet – just offering light. That time feels like medicine. Pure magic.

But truthfully… I don’t always get to meet it. Life is full, busy, sometimes overwhelmingly so. Four kids and the precious gift of van life – not travelling anymore but waiting for building approval on our land – it’s more than busy, it’s a wild symphony, a never-ending tide of energy and demands, beauty and chaos all at once. If I rise at 5 a.m., I need to stay up until 10 p.m., sometimes later, and that weight is real. Exhaustion has a way of dulling the sparkle.

The afternoons are harder for me. After lunch, the energy dips, but the world doesn’t quiet down. It still hums, loud and demanding, when inside I’d rather pause, slow, maybe dream. That mismatch between the inner rhythm and the outer noise makes it my least favourite stretch of the day.

So yes – mornings are still my love, my longing, my window into magic. I’m not living them as much right now, and that feels a little sad. But maybe that’s also life – sometimes we lean into what we know is good for us, and sometimes we let ourselves rest. Both are needed.

And if I’m honest, maybe that’s my answer: my favourite time of day isn’t fixed – it’s whenever I can catch a breath that feels like mine.

Love to hear your favourite time story.

Stefanie Anna