Yosemite National Park Snowy Sunrise, California by David Balyeat

There’s a silence in Yosemite after a snowfall that feels almost sacred. The valley was wrapped in fresh snow, clinging to every branch, boulder, and ledge. The Merced River moved slowly, half-shrouded in mist, reflecting the dim, icy hues of early morning. The usual crowds were gone— just the sound of the crunch of snow underfoot, and the distant crack of ice settling in the trees.

Then, as the first light crested the Sierra, everything changed. The granite faces of El Capitan and Half Dome caught fire in soft pink and gold, glowing against the cool blues of the shadowed valley below.