Stony Creek Cabin

42344080061_58eca10c3c_c41621422284_f573cc54d5_c40536990320_c98a444222_c

Late spring at a Forest Service cabin nestled in the Beaverhead Deerlodge National Forest. A moose had been bedding in the front lawn of the hundred year old cabin, a creek rushed loudly and busily across the road, farmers drove by in trucks kicking up dust clouds, and we made a fire that we sat by, quietly chatting, for hours.

42344078651_79e708cc6b_c28470877668_2d548f74d9_c40536993900_a6e8b353d1_c42344075411_5721e0de12_c28470891968_2e7222ff32_c

3 am and we could see stars and planets and satellites. I felt alive and happy, connected to new friends and old ones by the fire and the woods and the sounds of outside. The cabin was one hundred years old, and as I slept a little resident mouse ran back and forth along a beam near my head.

41621438414_16d04227bc_c40536997160_5f2136409a_c41621438794_5374afc3f5_c

In the morning I found moose tracks, wild strawberry plants, shooting star wildflowers, and lots of other evidence of living fauna. We had to drive over a water-logged road because Rock Creek was overflowing with runoff, muddy and fast. We were tired and happy together, breathing clean air.

 

Advertisements