Still Water at Dawn

We'd planned a single night at Lake Wenatchee and stayed five. The lake was glass each morning, the pines reflected so perfectly it was hard to tell which way was up.

Dazey's little propane heater kept us cozy as the nights dropped into the 40s. We read, we napped, we did absolutely nothing useful — which felt like the whole point.

On the last morning a pair of loons paddled right past our camp. We took it as a goodbye.