I’ve previously revealed my nocturnal watering habits. Well here’s another of my rituals: sneaking out at 5:30 a.m. for a little Sunday morning quiet.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t do it every Sunday — and frankly, it sometimes follows not having gone to sleep at all (I am an unabashed night owl) — but I do try to flip the script every then and again and take advantage of these solitary seasonal moments.

When I do, it’s just me, a piping hot beverage and some inspirational reading material. (One of my favorites is Anna Quindlen’s “A Short Guide to a Happy Life,” which holds up to numerous repeat-readings.)

Sunday is the day — and dawn is the time of day — that the noise of Chicago’s elevated train gives us urbanites a much-needed respite. It’s also before the rest of the typical city noise has a chance to build up a head of steam.

I like to use this time to commune with the small slice of nature I’ve carved out for myself. To let my thoughts drift to that happy place and to realize that there is renewal in every unfolding petal. My moment of Zen, if you will.

And as garden blogger Steph notes, morning in general is also a good time to survey your plants.

To discover that the flower buds on my sole veggie experiment (top photo, feel free to have a guess at what it is…), not counting my jalapeno, are a provocative purple.

And that a pale yellow lisianthus has flowered, joining the purplish-blue blossom I presented in the last post. (Only the light green of the color trio is yet to show itself.)

Speaking of my jalapeno, thus far there is one pepper and lots more buds and flowers. Remember, I planted a jalora jalapeno this year, so it’s not ready to pick until all the green has given way to yellow.

But, it’s not all sunshine and light (or the brink thereof). What I mean is, not all my plants are robust and full of promise.

One of my heirloom tomatoes is suddenly looking anemic, and the morning glory is leafy, but not yet covered with the blooms that should be greeting me this time of day.

Maybe next Sunday.