After such a beautiful spring like day (yes in February, in the mountains of upstate New York), I set the camping hammock up on the porch and slept outside. I watched the hazy yellow crescent moon gently slip below the western horizon and went to sleep soaring through the endless glorious sparkling stars in the purple night sky, feeling the tender caress of cool open air on my cheeks, snuggled in a warm sleeping bag, barely swaying, listening to water rushing in the creek and slow random tones from the wind chimes. Sleeping outside is pure bliss. Waking outside in the morning at first light, even before the first birds is the essence of tranquility. Breath deeply of the cool damp fresh morning air, smell and taste the still mostly frozen wet earth and wet evergreen trees. All is stillness, I hear rippling rapids in the creek, water dripping from the roof and leafless tree branches, the metallic creek of the hammock stand and rustling of the synthetic material of my sleeping bag as I shift position the looks out across the valley in the hazy soft blue light of dawn. There is one very large and bright star still visible through the tree branches toward the south, Venus or maybe the space station. As the sun climbs higher and the sky turns pale baby blue, the light and fluffy puffy clouds turn bright pink and immerse the valley in soft glowing pink orange light. Good morning!