Peaceful night fades slowly into dawn, light seeping through the leafless trees, sun silently rising above the eastern tree covered horizon. All bird rejoicing in the return of the sun, singing joyful melodies that carry through the woods like church bells. This music calls for the wild souls to awake and praise the sun rise, welcome a new day and be glad. I lay in my snugly warm bed in my tent listening to the morning chorus. I need to heed my own call of nature but its cold out in the open air, and of so very cozy warm under all the blankets. Eventually, I have no choice, so I brace myself and get up. After I am dressed in fleece and flannel, I sit down in my camp chair and fire up my little camp stove. Then set a pot of water on to boil, carefully spoon coffee grounds in to an insulated press pot, the dark rich aroma making my mouth water, pull the heavy ceramic mug from its protected spot in the coffee box, measure in one spoonful of turbinado sugar and one spoonful of dehydrated milk. This ritual brings a smile to my face, I haven’t performed it since last fall before the tent came down for the season. Boiling water pours into the press pot and now I wait. Listen to the frenzied birds chirping and fluttering all around. Soon, the coffee is ready to pour into my mug, that first tantalizing smell of dark camp coffee, that first scalding sip, sweetness, creaminess, and rich coffee goodness. I could sing as the birds on this fine early spring morning in the woods!