I love the way the newly sprouted flowers of Spring color the landscape in the mountains. The scenic vistas of color are breathtaking. I love the way an icy cold Trout stream meanders through the lowlands, with an occassional ripple on the water where a Trout has risen to take a small bug floating downstream. I love the cool, crisp morning air, the dew drops hanging on blades of grass. I love the calmness of the morning, looking out over a mountain lake, a distant loon breaking the silence, the fog filled mountain valleys. I love the gentle breezes blowing through the fields of flowers and grasses. I love the sound of a squirrel gnawing on an acorn, or the sound of the Ruffed Grouse "drumming" in the morning. I love the way the sunlight makes its way through the woodlands, illuminating the tops of the trees. I love the roar of whitewater rapids, with its fine spray of mist on my face. The power of the water, ever churning, speaks volumes to me. I love the tall pines that reach to the sky, with snow-capped mountains in the background. Bluebird skies with only hints of puffy clouds. Along comes an elk, an impressive animal, walking by, unaware of my presence, as the Aspen leaves shimmy in the morning breeze. I love the silver-lined clouds of sunrise, the water lapping against the shoreline. I love the way insects flutter from flower to flower, seeking out their nectar. I love the reflection of the sky in a mountain lake, ever changing hour to hour. I love the flocks of geese overhead, in their familar vee pattern, the smell of Mountain Laurel. I love the huge boulders that are strewn about the place, and the moss covered rocks. There's a beaver, swimming by with his stash of twigs and branches heading for his dam, moving ever so quietly across the water, as a Red-Tail hawk watches from the branch above.

The serenity of it all inspires me.