It is early morning and I am sitting alone on a log beside the river watching and waiting for the first glimpse of light that will illuminate what, for now , I can only hear. As the water releases its warmth into the cool air that covers it like a blanket, the resulting mist is wet on my skin. Taking its time, the rising sun coaxes the world to life until its wings are spread full and wide. As the sun warms the air, the mist recedes and a bright scene begins to take shape. Like an artist that started with only a roughly sketch shape, the colors and details are painted in, from every feather of a bird to the textures of the bark on a tree and the ripples on the water.