A patterned cloth rug covers the stained wood floor. Firelight creates shadows dancing on thick beige curtains.

The forest floor, splotchy with sunshine struggling to penetrate the great canopy above, is littered with an earthen collage of red, amber and yellow leaves. It must be fall.

The forest path is difficult to follow since it was formed by the animal inhabitants of this place long ago. I can imagine some deer or elk in single file meandering to the river at which the narrow trail eventually ends.

Whispering through the trees come the unmistakable sounds of river water. As I come to the bank of this healthy mountain stream I resist the urge to plunge my head into the icy waters until first testing the stability of the steep, rocky bank.

A rusty metal pail is hanging from a nail in a Ponderosa Pine. Standing next to the pine reveals a surprisingly pungent vanilla odor.

A quick flash of sunlight brings a shiny new brass key to my attention. Due to the key's large size, I imagine that it belongs to a door lock, perhaps to a cottage in these woods.