Morning Mood

Bird concert and grass wet with dew

I could never claim to be an early riser. To lounge in bed for a long time is far too much fun, at least in my eyes.

But one of the most amazing things I have been allowed to experience here in camp - and still am allowed, every morning anew - is the closeness to the awakening nature.

My alarm goes, depending on what is planned for the day and how long the evening before stretched, somewhere between 6:15 and 6:45. The whole camp is still asleep when I rise, and this sleepy silence is only disrupted by the singing of the birds.

On the first momrning in camp I was unable to match the voices to their respective owners, even if I was sure I knew them. By now I am asking myself how I was even able not to recognise the distinctive song of the oriole. In addition to the oriole I can hear the calling of a cuckoo and the screams of wild pheasants in the distance.

The world feels surreal at this time. It’s wonderful.

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