The beaver pond and mountain river valley hold wisps of lingering mist that formed the night before. The tiniest bit of breeze causes the streamers of moss to sway ever so slightly and carries the tangy aroma of the pine-scented air. All is quiet as the peaks and valleys await the first touches of the sun. The glowing white orb barely shows itself, transforming the peaks and valley into a shimmering moment of sheer beauty. The mountain and valley all seem to come alive, the birds quiet before bursting into song. The mountain beckons in the distance to come and explore.