It is five am and as I stand at my back door and look out into the silent world of my neighbourhood the singing of so many birds fills my ears.
They chorus the dawning of a new day.
The sun is struggling its way over the horizon and spreading its light pushing away the darkness.
I take in the brisk air, the smell of cut lucerne, awaiting the baler. Which I am sure will I will hear later tonight.
My yard this morning is booby-trapped with spider webs, which are woven during the night, their intricate patterns always a source of wonder. I must be careful as I walk into my yard less I become ensnared.
With my steaming cup of tea I stand and look out across the farm, the rows of cut lucerne like small waves rolling across the vast expanse of the cut paddock.
When all silence has been gathered the laughing of the kookaburras shatters this reverie. The pair in the far trees as one their laughter in marking their territory. Their cackle is loud and raucous heralding the arriving morning.
My heart is filled with joy. I will never tired of their laughter. How blessed I am that these unique birds live in the trees of my neighbourhood.
the smells of early morning