The mist lay dense upon the face of the earth that April morning, 1994, concealing the bending figure of a woman, as she pushed aside the fast disappearing snow in her search for the first appearing dandelion, fresh and crisp, clinging close to the warm earth, beneath its white and frosty blanket. The woman, rising from her hunt in the snow, stood erect, raising her head and shoulders above the low-lying mist, as mountains lift their heads above humid clouds, disclosing a face of pathetic beauty, accentuated by the total absence of even an attempt at personal adornment.