Blue Ridge Morning

Cold, clean air right up front. Then fir, like the tree line just past the fence. Then something soft and a little warm underneath, so it never gets sharp.

You're up before anybody else. Everything's covered in frost, the sun's not up yet, and the sky over the mountains is just starting to turn pink. You take a deep breath and it's so cold it almost hurts.

Crisp and quiet. The first five minutes of a winter morning.