Drawing a blank on the page for words. A blank drawing pictured through the lens of the camera. All seems sheathed in snow. But none has fallen. It’s just the blank white of a new Word document illuminated on the computer screen. And it’s just the rumple of fog and drizzle and clouds over the mountain. The mountain that is concealed in so much weather is not the mountain that comes to the fore here. It is fitting that on the first day of the last month of these posts, on which I tried to hang visions of a place older than words or eyes, the mountain I bring to you now is revealed only partially and in broken outlines, with the rest rock-solid in the bastion of mists.