I love the dusk. And I love my Dad. The two make a great combination. Dad has a couple of game trail cameras and over the last few weeks he has been monitoring places on our property – He’s pretty excited for this hunting season. So this evening, we went on a little hike to pick up the trail cameras.

The sun had already sunk behind the hills and we were walking in deepening shade. We heard a low snort and saw a flash of of white – evidence that God has a sense of humor, I think. A white-tailed deer’s white tail doesn’t serve any purpose, but it sure makes me smile!

The moon was just a sliver of silver in the pale amber sky, and Harney Peak darkly brooded in the west, slate-blue at the end of the horizon. The world out here seems so large, yet so small. When I’m sheltered in the woods in the bottom of a ravine, with trees reaching to the sky, and rocks rising high above my head, I feel so small – Distance seems to grow. What is around the next corner, or over the next hill? Delight. Sheer delight. And when I’m standing on top of a hill looking away at the skyline, distance seems to compress and the horizon seems near enough to touch. Bliss. Sheer bliss.

As the dusk settled further, the air grew heavier with chill – I was toasty warm except for my ears, which were giving me a headache, but I didn’t care. How could I? With the smell of fresh-cut pine from the logging we’ve been having done, and the gentle crush of pine needles beneath my feet, the slide and scramble down a steep hillside, the rattle and clatter of rocks sliding with me, the opalescent sky turning darker and dimmer, and my Dad right there with me – How could I be anything but thankful?

We turned towards home, following a short draw, steep wall on one side and gentle slope on the other. The first stars appeared in the east. The blanket of dusk was pulled from east to west. And the moon flickered coldly in the western sky, tangled in the branches of the pines.