rolling green hills, a mottled brown eagle sweeping low in search of food, three wild deer running gracefully over the brow, disappearing into a tall dense forest. a land so vast, only the sound of an approaching car breaks the stillness. fields so deep in valleys the sun may not reach them for months, leaving the frost to settle in layers so deep it seems the summers heat may even struggle to melt it.

marshy fields are resting ground to dozens of storks, feeding for their helpless chicks hopping along behind them. by dusk they fly back to their precariously built nests above the chimneys of the towns rathaus or schloss. every single building, no matter how big or small has a woodpile stacked with great precision. each under some sort of custom built roof or simple fabric covering. the bare cut wood edges fade from freshly cut to aged, most then marked out with coloured ribbons indicating the season in which the tree was felled.

the mountains upon the horizon in the black forest cast shadows of every shade of blue as the sun rises and sets. a deep dusky tone in the foreground which fades to stormy cloud colour in the back. the peaks of the alps are just visible to the naked eye, indeterminable where the mountains end and the clouds begin.