I had several people write me about my last post (here) that alluded to my series on the prevalence of morning description in novels (here). My take on is that for some reason authors love to write descriptions of the morning far more than the afternoon and evening. Those of you who doubted this and thought . . . ho hum. . . Nota bene that just yesterday I ran across another!
The following sunrise was something to behold. There was a rare break in the low, dark clouds that allowed visible rays of golden smoke to slide sideways across the hills. Juliette lay in her cot, watching the dimness fade to light, her cheek resting on her hands, the smell of cold untouched oatmeal drifting from outside the bars. She thought of the men and women in IT working through the past three nights to construct a suit tailored for her, their blasted parts ported up from Supply. The suit would be timed to last her just long enough, to get her through the cleaning but no further.
Howey, Hugh - Wool Omnibus Edition
It happens more than you think folks. Start looking for it in your own reading. It's there.