This child of the mountain may seem small or insignificant where it lay in a crowd of thousands, many similar, some larger and some smaller. but like each and every one of them, it is in fact unique. A thing of timeless, evolving beauty. It has seen more Summers and more Winters than any man. It has seen the trees along the brook as seedlings, then watched them grow tall and fresh, stately and commanding, then old, fallen and rotten, becoming dirt, as more seedlings reached again for the sky, again, and again, and again, and again.