By Bruce Smith
Recently Jeanne and I hiked to Hyalite Lake. Along the way I experienced some special moments that I thought might be worth sharing. So here goes.
The incomparable Montana blue showing through the evergreen branches on top of a canyon ridge.
The perfect symmetry of an intricately fabricated spider’s web shimmering in the morning light. Who knew that multiple colors reflected off those strands in a tiny kaleidoscope?
Speaking of those strands, what hiker has not run into these strands of web. Apparently arachnids enjoy spinning these threads across paths. But how many have witnessed the proprietor busily making her way up that stand? Watching her we wondered why she’d spun it there and where she was going. So many unanswered questions when we take time to really see nature.
The perfect moving V on the face of a placid alpine lake as a duck paddles its way across.
A special moment as a squirrel, with cone in mouth, stopped to study me as we stared in mutual regard along a branch. Did we share some bit of cross-species communication as our eyes met? Maybe.
And the other squirrel who ignored us as it dismembered, petal by petal, another cone. Normally, with our staring so close, they would skitter but this guy just sat and ate voraciously. Finishing and tossing the stem aside, he squeaked the normal warning, turned tail, and properly skittered away.
Morning light filtering its way among the trees as the sun rose over the canyon walls.
The incomparable song of a mountain stream accompanying us along our way.
The story of eons appearing on the nearby mountainside. Written in the texture of changing rocks.
The joy of sharing the experience when Susan Byorth and Patti Gehman came over to our luncheon spot on the lake.
Standing at stream level on rubble with water flowing underneath and around just below a waterfall. When does one get to feel like part of the stream itself without getting wet?
Light playing on the rippling, pooling, and tumbling water making its way down the winding way of its streambed.
The taste of a few very ripe, remaining thimbleberries.
The surprising blaze of a dozen yellow flowers standing proud against the fading greens of September.
The variety of waterfalls, each with its own character and flowing beauty.
Intervals of woodsy smells. Are the trees communicating through special scents? Some think so.
Being dwarfed by the mountains on either side. Did the Psalmist feel like this when he asked, “What is man that you are mindful of him?”
Such a day reminds us of Genesis 1:28: “God saw all that had made, and it was very good.”