A flowing mountain stream in February. What a pleasure it was to awaken to the brisk morning air kissing my barely open eyes. Only to begin the day with a warm fire on the river's bank. All was quiet, near ghostly. The sound of the crystal clear water rushing over the rocks, as if man had placed each one of them there particularly. Cold like ice to the touch. Refreshing in so many ways.
Mother nature's water ways are so special to me and these are some of the oldest in the world. I am thankful we have finally met. Of course the blue ridge in the horizon adds a beautiful backdrop to its story.