Sleeper Mountain

Good evening and welcome to Sleeper Mountain. It's so nice to have a little company out here on the deck of the cabin, someone with whom I can share all the sights and sounds that a mountain night has to offer. There's always something to see here, something to hear. You have to be patient, otherwise there's a chance you'll miss it. And you have to be quiet, it goes without saying. But sit out here long enough and you're more or less guaranteed to see something memorable. For me, it's just the best entertainment that money can't buy. Before we begin our visit, I think it's nice to start with a quick wind-down. Tonight's wind-down is a breathing exercise. So when you're ready, let's begin. First just bringing the attention to the breath, noticing where you feel it, in the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're gonna be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four and then breathing out for six. So are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four, hold it for four, two, three, four. Now breathing out for six. Two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three, four, out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three four, out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great, now returning the breath to normal. Night falls like a blanket over Sleeper Mountain. Shadows pour down at slopes, catching and pooling beyond the boulders and trees and gathering in ravines and gullies. As the sun sets beyond the far ridge, you can see how the mountain got its name. Seen in silhouette, the ridge across from us looks like the profile of a sleeping man. You can make out the sharp point of his nose, the round peak of his chin against the bright clouds picked out against the sky by the setting sun. It's as though some giant chose this place to rest his body and slept and slept until in time he was grown over with trees and grass, drowsing here for all eternity. The mountain is cloaked in a stately quiet, as if the world were mindful of the mountain's name and had chosen not to wake it. There are cars on the highway down by the ocean, just the other side of the ridge, in fact, and yet no sounds of traffic penetrate this canyon's quiet. It's quiet, but not silent. If you listen carefully, you can hear the creak of the wind in the trees and the click and crack of twigs in the stove out here on our deck, the cicadas and the owls and other nighttime animals. From here, on the deck of our cabin, which juts over the hillside...