There are certain places that carry a kind of stillness—where nature speaks softly, and every corner feels like it has something to offer if you’re willing to slow down and listen. Squaxin Park in Olympia, Washington (formerly known as Priest Point Park) is one of those rare places. On June 16, 2025, I had the joy of experiencing it at its most colorful and unexpectedly personal.
The rose garden was In full bloom that day, lit by soft, golden light that gave everything a subtle glow. Each flower seemed to shimmer—petals unfolding in waves of crimson, blush, ivory, and gold. The garden felt alive. Butterflies hovered, bees moved from bloom to bloom, and the entire scene had that peaceful hum of summer fully arrived.
But as beautiful as the roses were, the most unforgettable part of the day came later—and it had hooves.
While exploring one of the shaded trails deeper in the park, I spotted a young deer quietly grazing in the underbrush. I fully expected her to run the moment I lifted my camera—but she didn’t. She paused, looked right at me, then calmly continued nibbling at the grass. I stood still, moving slowly, working with the space she allowed. The shots weren’t perfect—she kept her distance, and the light dipped quickly—but I cherished every frame.
Not every photo needs to be technically flawless. Sometimes, the story behind it holds more weight than any setting or sharpness. That gentle encounter reminded me of the kind of connection you can’t force—you simply receive it, gratefully, if you’re lucky.
Squaxin Park has always been a quiet favorite of mine—a blend of shoreline, woodland, and carefully cultivated gardens that reflect both the natural and cultural beauty of the area. But June 16th gave me something special: roses that caught the light just right, and an unexpected moment of trust with a wild friend I won’t soon forget.
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