Raindrops like slow motion, dripping into Watson River. Ripples dissolving; all together becoming waves folding over the sandy shore like sleepy morning smiles, over and over. May these nuances of nature keep me tender for all of my days.
On the south facing slope dry, warm dust of clay cliffs.Fuzzy crocuses.Some sleepy, some stretchinghigh, to the sun lit sky.Blades of grass,pushing green,growing.Bright leaves, slowly unfolding like arms, like art,swirling vein patterns,demanding nothing, but gaining all of myattention. Walk slow,through these forests.Stop, often.Bend to touch.Feel the moss, the lichens,No longer brittle but, still firm, still … More Old Pines
I am home inthese curves; intoxicated.tongue tied. My eyes follow their arching bodies up and up ,their gorgeous frames making my heart raceuntil I reach the tops, only to plunge downward , over and over until my eyeswet from all the wonder. These mountains.
His rough and toughness was what attracted me to him. I needed a strong dog that could handle life on trails, in tents and in the mountains.
So I did not expect what would come next. In fact, I feel awful about it. Having done a 4 hour, 13km climb to the Ice Cave in Kluane two weeks ago where his energy and stamina seemed unfaltering, I figured a 7km climb’n’camp would be no problem! … More Expectation Vs. Reality, the Camping with Dogs Edition
At last, I could see the blue gleaming gash in the earth ahead. When we arrived, Aziza collapsed in tears, the wind was even more concentrated, bellowing through the Ice Cave. We were all alone up here… … More Kluane Ice Cave
Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will. John Green wrote this, but he isn’t the first. This honest sentiment is one we’re told, we say and that we, to the very core of our beings, know. And yet, here we are imagining the hell out of our lives, every day, every hour; how that … More What Time Is It?
After a long hike deep in the trees hearing only small streams, chickadees and rustle of the few leaves that have hung on since autumn, the sight of my car fills me with disquiet. There looms the insentient reminder that I am not home in these woods I love so dearly.
There is something about a walk in the woods that feels like closing your eyes at the end of a day; that final conscious exhale; that alignment between brain and body as they slip, simultaneously, into stillness.