The old, weathered cabin door swung open. Its creaky hinges had withstood years of braving snowstorms beating against the door. Hanging on a hook was a key to the cabin. The twine from which it hung was scraggly from years of simply hanging. The key was never used. There was no need. No one came here but her.
The window next to the door let in a small amount of light that reflected on the table in front of it. This is where she kept her camera. She reached to the right of the door to grab a light jacket. It was spring in the mountains and there was a chill in the air. Picking up her camera, she draped it around her neck.
Before she ever walked out the door, she paused to take in what was before her. The lushness of her mountain vista always took her breath away. There was no one around but her. She stepped through the doorway, onto the ancient porch. Looking up, she smiled. There’s nothing like a New Mexico sky, she thought. From far down in the valley, the scent of pinon wafted up the mountain, ever so slightly, brought up by the gentle wind that sometimes interrupted the stillness.
She decided to sit on the steps for a while. Bringing her camera to her face, she looked through the viewfinder to see things from a new perspective. She could zoom in on the hawk sitting on the highest branch surveying the beauty before him. She could take a closer look at the deer grazing in the forest. There was a rustling in the distance that she couldn’t identify. If it sounded large enough, she could retreat into the cabin for safety. More than likely though, she’d go investigate to see what was there, taking her rifle just in case.