Cloud below the ridge, coffee on the porch, llamas in the garden. What the first hour of a retreat day actually feels like.
The valley fills with cloud overnight and burns off slowly after sunrise. From the yoga studio you watch it happen in real time, the ridgelines emerging one after another.
Coffee comes from the plants below the cabins. Eggs come from the garden. Breakfast is whatever the farm gave us that week.
By nine the light is hard and bright and the day belongs to you: trails, waterfalls, the village plaza, or nothing at all.
