There is something about a black sky, overcast, no stars showing, that can fill you with foreboding. When the horizon line is invisible, there is no way to get your bearings, no way to know exactly where you are, in relationship to the rest of the world. You can feel lost. You need a point of reference.

If your mind is damaged or broken, you might imagine that the blackness you see is all there ever will be. It may feel as though the world is tiny and closing in. The depth of the darkness may trigger thoughts of the worst kind.

Below a pink and pale blue sky sprawls an enormous panorama of rolling hills, an extraordinary vista that can be seen from the top of Bald Rock Mountain. The sun is beginning to light up the tops of trees. It’s another good day to stand on a mountaintop, to look out there and drink it all in.

My eyes sweep all that lays before me. And out there, way out there, the fog begins its slow ascent off the cold ground, as it rises up to meet the warm air, creating what looks much like a massive white lake, a lake that gleams in the morning sun. Eyes can play tricks, especially eyes attached to an imaginative brain. I looked. I looked away. My brain jumped into overdrive.

Pure blue sky greets rising fog, while the sun bursts over the horizon, lighting up the cold hard rock upon which I stood. What a way to begin.

It's another ethereal morning.

On a morning of clear blue sky, a cold face of ancient rock is embraced by the warmth from an ancient sun, as an old man with ancient-feeling legs realizes he probably walked too far down that mountainside just to get a photograph.