At 6:30, the sun had already risen and the mists that had gathered above Third Sister Lake were illuminated; a wall of golden white hanging like a curtain across the lake.
Walking outside, the chilly morning air raised the hairs on my arms in goosebumps. Dew clung to the tall grasses, slicking my shoes and legs as I walked toward the lake.
Two swans -- pure white avian squatters that arrived at sometime yesterday afternoon -- stared to trumpet. Maybe they heard my footsteps? Maybe, too, it was a coincidence...
The mist was gone an hour later; the sun having heated the air, breaking open the vista, allowing one to see out and across to the other side.
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