Was reminded by a friend of the last elk hunt I was on that I harvested one. One night after it'd snowed about 18" the sky broke and got real clear and cold. I remember walking out into the middle of a large field near camp towards midnight, the cold silver glow of the full moon seemed incredibly bright from the reflection of the white powder swirling along like some Neptunian sand dune wisps, and the harsh bite of the north wind on my face brought a clarity of thought to my mind. It was as if to take another step from the field into the darkness was to make the transition from a world limited in dimension and depth into one of being that was wholly foreign to me; almost like stepping off a cliff into a freefall perhaps.

Some moments can last the better part of a lifetime. Amazing how, given that time is a constant, our perceptions seldom are.