Ancient

We are ancient, or think we are. Our tired knees and bruised heels tell us so as we climb from the valley floor to the lookout, the one perched high on the ridge above the valley. We spend an hour here before descending to the lake for camp. We make dinner and eat as the…

Entering the Caldera

The buffaloes arrive just after the father walks to the river with his camera and the mother and boy sit and eat snacks on a bench near the car. It seems as if all of sudden the buffaloes are there, sauntering with heads swaying, between the cars and up along the sidewalk.  The mother and boy…

Beaver Lake

One morning, not so long ago, my husband and I walked together.  We followed a muddy wisp of a trail along the river to a beaver pond, or lake, as it’s called, Beaver Lake. The sun shone in our eyes and made the frost on the trees glint. We were chilled at first but the…