God Is Here

When I last travelled the desert, I passed this one empty house.  It was along a flat stretch of highway.  A straight away nearly twelve miles long. Springtime was busting out.  The desert filling with promise. Green spotted the hills and I could see dots of little yellow flowers. And rain.  Rain was loving the…

Zanzibar

“I could put  my cigarette out in it,” the man said and laughed a little.  Blond and tall and lean, he rolled the window up to keep the ashes from blowing back in his face, making the jeep unbearably hot. It was barely past breakfast. “It’s only kerosene,”  he said. Jay and the girl rode…

Birds

White birds congregate in the fields. We pass them often these days.  They’ve come  from Russia  to winter and feed in the fallow fields near my home – Tundra Swans, Trumpeter Swans, Snow Geese. The  Trumpeter Swans are big and white with long curved necks.  The geese are smaller but just as white with wings…

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…

The Wolf

I have never seen a wolf.   Not in the wild.  My dad did.  Once.  Up north, as they say, in the boundary waters.   Early morning and we kids were all asleep in the tent when he woke to cook trout caught the night before. And to smoke cigarettes.   There he was on the rocks by…

Adventures in Buses

I haven’t posted for some time.  Life has not allowed for such but I hope to get back to it soon.  In the meanwhile,  I had a piece published at Wanderlust and Lipstick.  It’s a continuation of an earlier story I posted here called La Ruta Maya.  I’ve attached a link to the new story. …

A Summer Journey

Why is what I  wonder as I lay in bed. Why are we in a hostel in British Columbia? This was nowhere in the plan really. Canada had been a vague idea, somewhere along the realm of something we couldn’t possibly fit in. We had thrown the passports in the glove compartment just in case….

La Ruta Maya

The day is hot and dusty when the bus from Cancun drops us.  We get off at the wrong stop and bicker about the mile or so walk we have to get to Tulum. In the midday heat our backpacks feel stone heavy and we quickly languish. I am the first to stick out my…