The Storm just missed the mountains. Yellow aftermath of the storm moves on. Low lingering clouds float in the background while paint brush clouds fly above. A 1,000 trees cover the landscape and the animals call this home. The Haze slides in from the East, below the peaks and above the low lands. You could call this, Gods country. Traces of snow show at the base of the peaks, there is still time to gather. The Rills and valley's are many, Nooks and crannies, holes and caves. This is home to all that live here, many never roam far. Abundance of birds, and deer, rabbit and the ever pleasant skunk. Maybe a badger or two. No large predators live here. They come and go but never stay. The gentle animals that make this place their home think it's a real haven. I guess it is Gods country. Man has never been here, but he will some day, and all this will be gone. Beer cans will lay, paper, plastic and the 100 year foam cups. Then man will harvest the trees, soil erosion. The animals will leave. Can you see the Wal-mart to the right where the haze is now. The building and the roads. They call that progress, I call it ruin. Man.! ? All VistaPro