Dick Proenneke

The weather has warmed considerably these last few days. This morning I was up early. There wasn't much wind on the lake, and the water was smooth enough to reflect the mountain on the far shore. I stood by the window for a while with a cup of coffee. There's still plenty of snow in the high country, but down here the country is beginning to show its summer colors. The willows are coming along, and the spruce have that fresh look they get when everything starts growing again. Across the lake, the mountain looks different every morning. The light is on it now, moving slowly down the slope as the sun climbs. A few clouds have gathered along the top, but they don't seem to be going anywhere in particular. I like mornings such as this. There isn't much to do until the ground dries out, so there's no reason to hurry. I've found that some of the best times are when there is nothing that needs doing right away. A bird came down near the cabin a little while ago. He stayed around the window for several minutes, looking in as though he were as curious about me as I was about him. The lake is quiet. Every now and then I can hear a little water along the shore, and once in a while the call of a bird carries across from the other side. It makes a man realize how much there is to see when he isn't rushing past it. I think I'll go out later and look over the garden patch. But for now I'll sit here a little longer. The mountain is still there. The lake is still. And it's a fine morning in the country.