It was another spring day up on Mt. LeConte. The high was 45. The low was 35. It was 37 and hazy at observation. The snow up top is patchy and it seems like much of the treacherous ice is now benign.
The mist has returned. It lingers atop the staircase like a silken veil, choking off every view. If there's a world beyond this, I wouldn't know it. It adds an allure. It is for the true lover of nature. It is a gift to revel in what others regard as a toilsome misery. As Emerson said, the mystery of nature has never been displayed so happily.