Abuse is sometimes cunning,like a mischievous fox whoby morning leaves you wondering just where it isyou left your right shoe.Or glove. Or the logical side of your brain. Abuse is also quiet,like the great Yukon grizzly whosleeps away the coldest months,tucked somewhere no one would suspect butusually,far too close for comfort. If only we knew. … More THE SUMMER I MISSED THE WILDFLOWERS

Go Slowly

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.

Old Pines

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

These Mountains

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.

Expectation Vs. Reality, the Camping with Dogs Edition

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

What Time Is It?

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?

Silver Lake, April 2017

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.