When the cold wind blows and the Whipper Whippoorwill stops its nightly song. I walk among the tall Cedars that are evergreen. I see the hues of Blue and Silver on the needles of the tall sentinels that stand along the road and line the banks of rivers and streams. They fill the valley with their scent and give haven to birds from the coming winter chill. Though their bark is rough, their heart is soft and fragrant. Sometimes I cry when one is cut down, but I do not mourn long, for I know it will be transformed. The tree will become a hope chest or the frame of a bed filled with childhood memories. So I walk on among old friends and feel a sense of peace. As I stand among the cedars of the valley where I live.