My husband had been questioning (read pestering) me during our time in Salzburg about the Alps. I explained that we were in the foothills, the relatively small mountains one can see from the city, Festungberg included, were the beginnings of the famed mountain range.
Off to the side of one of the squares at the fortress I noticed a small flight of stairs leading down. We descended them to a terrace and there in front of us, spreading out in both directions, filling the horizon, were the glorious peaks of the Alps. Some of the higher elevations held small amounts of snow, it was early fall and snow had not fallen for several months. Clouds would obscure the summits of some, then move off revealing their full beauty. They rose from the plains below, proud and majestic, self confident in their grandeur. Row after row of peaks stood before us. We were awed, unable to tear ourselves away from the vista. Adding to the atmosphere was the young man with shaggy blonde hair dressed in lederhosen posing for a photo taken by his more conventionally dressed female companion.
"Are you happy now?" I asked my husband. From the smile on his face I could tell that he was.
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