I was awakened by colors brewing in the eastern sky. I extracted myself from the furry purrs snuggled in from head to toe, slipped on a pair of shoes, and grabbed my camera as I walked outside into a cool stillness at sunrise.  I walked only a few steps from the deck to face the misty purple mountains, behind lacy cottonwoods, under pastel colored clouds, softened by the winds blowing from the heavens above. I stood in the calm morning light and watched clouds erupt over the crest before they spilled down the face of the mountains where they turned into a soft purple mist. Tristan called to ask if I had seen the clouds on the Sandias. She said it was too cold and windy to ride her motorcycle. Not a dry leaf stirred or blade of yellow grass twitched in the stillness of the colorful early morning quickly turning gray — we were spared the strong easterly winds that blew in town.