With an invisible brush, the gentle morning breeze paints with powerful finesse. A northerly breeze swept across the waters, whispering softly as it went. Its finesse comes in the form of a silken voice that cannot be denied. Its power is evident in its ability to transform an undulated liquid into a captivating vapor. This vapor rises in columns and drifts with etherial beauty. It’s as if it is answering a call from a distant shore. As the Sun, rising behind mountains to the east, fills the obscured sky with its pink light, the fog builds into dense clouds. There is motion to this light as mist ebbs and flows. It is all at once concealing and revealing. The hidden object of my desire on this stunning morning was teasing me from its distant perch. I am patient, and I waited. As I waited, I watched the fog shift and lift, thicken and settle, and then lift again. Each time I stared intently into the pink nothingness, dreaming of hope obtained. Then I perceived a new lightening to the north. As it slid into frame, hope began to rise within me. Might this be the moment I have waited for? Would a porthole to the other side of the lake open and escort my dream into reality? Then, all at once, the moment was realized! Mountains were revealed as tendrils of fog framed the scene with artistry unmatched. I managed to absorb not just the moment into my memory, but the light into my camera. This doesn’t always happen and I am always grateful for the waiting and downright giddy when what I wait for arrives.