Mountain Home

We traveled through thick forests and over high passes, coming to a valley surrounded by snow covered peaks. The rocky outcrops wear small pallid caps, while the tall coniferous trees are speckled white. Winter’s touch has not left this lofty place.

As the clouds roll in, the distant mountains disappear, shrouded in the coming flurry. One by one these new white bearded friends vanish from my sight, leaving only mist for my searching eyes.

Shooting across the glade, a family of wapiti elk hurries home before darkness can descend completely. A squirrel burrows deep into his arboreal hideout. We stand upon a stout log portico, before a mighty wooden tower. Peakroofed, it has become but another snow covered landing to the eagle circling above.

My brother watches the majestic flight. Slowly descending, it’s features become more pronounced through the thick fog. He matches the peak abounding, trees, as feathers, ending abruptly in bald heads.

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