It's a windless morning. When I stop walking and the dogs are far over a ridge, there is perfect silence.
Once in a while I may hear the distant chatter of a squirrel or a few notes from a far-off songbird, but nothing else.
After a minute, my ears readjust and I hear a faint popping hiss.
Maybe it's the static of my ears,or the sound of snow melting, or trees stretching.
I don't think it's my ears because I can clearly recall the silence of the deep winter, when I lived up here, and there was no sound at all.
In the middle of the night I'd step out from my cabin and walk way out on the frozen lake that was my extended front yard. The lack of sound was overwhelming.
The soundlessness, the uninhabited moonlit ice stretching to the horizons, and the aurora borealis overhead.
I will never forget those winter moments. Gloved hands hanging down at my sides, hood pushed back so I could hear nothing but my own breath. Those were some of the the most humbling, spiritual, profound moments I have had in my life.
This goddamned place - once it takes your heart, it never really lets go.
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