28 July

Sitting on a 5'x5' square rocktop 75' straight above Miller Lake surveying its glassy surface currently undisturbed by even the slightest hint of a breeze. Reflected perfectly in its mere, is a ridgeline and trees-a lone duck flies by, pinwheels over the lake and cruises off to the North with only the whirring sound of its wings fading in the distance and failing light to belie its presence. Soon I am left once again in perfect silence--the kind where you only hear your own ears, which sounds deafening in a peaceful way, until you are made aware of the chirp of a night bird, and one lonesome, searching quack in the far distance by the previously observed duck.
At the same time I've been in wonderment of the silence and silhouetted ridge, I've been absorbed in watching a beautiful little blacktail doe (sometimes considered a sub-species of the mule deer, but I think it is distinct-could be wrong on this). She is grazing, browsing in the grasses and sedges in the meadow about the shoreline, the small swail up about the direction of my camp, to the borders of the lodgepole, and back again. She stops every so often perfectly still with her hindquarters to the water, looking & listening to the occasional sound which grabs her attention. I watch her in wonder--her grace, and poise.
A sole bat take wing above the lake as the sun sets and light fades--again, there is no breeze. I can see bugs aplenty on the water's surface, but again, no fish. As it darkens fully, the silhouette of the trees and ridgeline are magnificent. The sky is clear of smoke for the first time in days.
My doe has disapeared from my sight--retreating to the safety of the trees..but not too far in I imagine. Amazing how she just melts away into the night air.
It is with a head and belly full of wonder and amazement, I shimmy down from my perch to the luxurious comfort of my sleeping place and waiting bag to cocoon and envelope me in juxtaposition to the rapidly cooling night air. It has been a good day.