Nothing can compare to the beauty of the Appalachian Mountains. They are the home of my childhood and maintain many memories, fond memories, of growing into adulthood while being encompassed by such natural perfection. One such memory takes me back to a day of young adulthood when I was vacationing with my parents in a cabin atop a ridge of Mother Nature's makings. The mornings came fast as something in the air always stirred me from my sleep. Maybe it was the whispers of the trees as the wind gave the directions to sound the morning call, or maybe it was the luminous morning clouds seemingly filled with a soup of warmth, passing slowly overhead to share the saturation of the sun's blessings. Maybe it was the fragrance of the morning's blossoms, waking themselves and proclaiming their love for life by passing their sweet scent to the nostrils of those who would enjoy their company. In any of these, I could find a reason for wanting to begin my day and meet the children of my creator, my brothers, and my sisters.
             I would always start the day with a leisurely stroll to the bank of a brook. The walk was one to bring excitement because never was there a morning without the greeting of the neighboring animals daring to be seen. The squirrels would interrupt their duties of collecting the oncoming winter's wares to stand and seemingly offer a greeting as I passed many of their homes. The birds would fly ahead, within earshot, to include their morning melodies to the beat of the babbling brook. Occasionally, a deer would allow a gander at their grace, sharing their love for natural freedom.
             Along the way at the day's first blush, I met the sight of the stunning beauty that has been written indelibly in my mind. A part in the clouds allowed a ray of sun a glimpse of the mountains preparations for the day to come. As if it found the most exquisite item in existence, the beam focused entirely on the spot in the path only a few feet ahea...