The pain and joy of early mornings

The alarm goes off. "Wow, did I even fall asleep?". It's four-something in the morning. The bed has that perfect temperature that it seems to have only when you are supposed to get out of it. The photo backpack is packed and ready downstairs. The plan is to get out i the surroundings, just around where I live. It's vacation, and I don't really need to get up. I could just as well just go back to sleep. And that prospect is quite appealing, after all. And sometimes it wins.

But not this time. I do get out of bed. I get dressed. It's the middle of summer, the weather outside is nice, no wind at all, pretty clear sky. I put on an extra long sleeved layer: summer mornings can be surprisingly chilly.

A short walk to the meadow where I plan to poke around. I am hoping for some dragonflies, perhaps a few butterflies.

And I find some. I feel confident, out in the field, that I will have some good images to work with later, when I get home.

At this point, the prospect of staying in bed, going back to sleep, that idea seems outright stupid. The reward of getting out is so intense. It's interesting that it can be so hard to remember that when the alarm goes off.

It's like with exercise. You never regret getting out, getting some exercise. The feeling afterwards is hugely rewarding. Still, getting out of the sofa can be so hard.

But it's worth it, every time.