Monument Valley by Sunlight:  My husband Andrew and I got up before dawn to watch the sunrise between the Navajo sandstone buttes and mesas.  We walked a long way across the rocks and sand and just as the cold seemed to melt under our feet with the first rays of light, we heard the haunting sound of a cedar flute creeping across the sand with the shadows. The beauty of the Navajo flute is bourne of it's freedom.  There should be no written music, as it is played from the soul.  Each note is chosen by the moment.  We never saw the face of this bewitching tribute to the dawn; the soft notes slowed us.  We stopped and watched the sun paint the dark rocks red and orange and then turned home.
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