The mother of waters.
Though she hid for days behind a vaporous veil, upon the third day Rainier emerged for an instant above the Trail of Shadows, just as the westward sun was setting.
An instant later, the window had closed and we were not to see her again until the morning.
I dream of one day owning a cottage in a field of heather beneath a great peak like this and whiling away the autumn years of my life in the shadow of the mountain. For the time being, it is fleeting moments like this that will have to suffice.
Who could ask for more?