The soft rain during the night has watered the forest and left the tent speckled with raindrops. It is early morning and the eyes are still glazed with drowsiness. As I awaken to the world outside the tent walls I hear the birds chirping as they fly from branch to branch. Listening closer I hear two squirrels chasing each other among the tall pine trees. It’s too early to be up, but I open the door to see what the weather looks like. The seemingly quiet teeth of the zipper shatter the relative silence of the forest, emitting a foreign sound. The view outside is beautifully mystic. The surrounding trees glisten with raindrops and a few wildflowers color the nearby alpine meadow. Straining my neck upwards I see the mountain peaks covered with an early morning mist. The mist seams magical and mysterious, hiding the jagged summits from view.