The moon rests, nearly full, hanging over the western hills. Her face is softened by a faint and delicate mist. The morning sky behind her quietly transforms from dawn cobalt to true daylight blue as early sunbeams creep over the eastern horizon. The color and the light and the fog lend an unreal tone; the view is more like a painting than a real sky. But real it is: a cold crisp April morning full of the promise of spring.