Thoughts At Dawn
I cannot yet see the sun. Its gentle rays have just begun to peep over the mountain. It is the dawn of another blessed day. The bluish fog that the mountain is named for has not yet melted.
I have long believed that the secret of my coffee’s mild flavor and lack of bitterness lays in the nightly gentle caresses of the beans by this almost mysterious bluish hue. I believe it provides a natural dilution of flavor and bitterness. I am sure scientists could conduct experiments and come up with technical answers, but some things are simply better left alone.
As I look upon the majestic beauty of my mountain; the rainbow of colors that is produced by the penetration of the fog by the piercing rays of sunlight; the lush green background of the mountain that has the effect of a canvass for this natural and glorious work of art, I drink in a deep breath of crisp mountain air. There is absolutely no place in this whole world I would rather be
