Waking up in an English Forest

Awakening to the dawn chorus all around our little tent, was like nothing else I have ever experienced. Every bird in the New Forest must have been singing a song. What a sound to open your ears and eyes to. A gentle orchestra that builds to a richness of sound only achieved by meaty, skilled jazz bands.
Unzipping the tent we were greeted by shafts of sunlight streaming through the giant pencil trees. I felt like a borrower. Not only in size but of this time – I felt like I was secretly living my ancestors life for this morning – we had gone back in time and only we knew.

On ground level, delicate shivering ferns littered the floor and the long, bare, silhouetted tree trunks lead the eye skyward to their canopy of glowing yellow foliage. The morning sun just touching the tops of the trees and illuminating them like a dappled golden sky.
How can stillness feel to roaringly alive?

 

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