There are beginnings and endings in the mountains where ancient folds layer one upon another concealing the mysteries tucked therein. Each crease is a beginning, and each crease is an end. They’re dawns and dusks, and they’re folds within us as much as without, places where questions and answers mingle as one. (The upper Salmon River canyon photographed from an old fire lookout atop Lookout Mountain in the northern White Cloud Mountains.)