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…
Tag: creative nonfiction
Fire
The plume rises before us. White and billowy. We watch from across the valley. Then walk back to our camp by the lake. The beautiful alpine lake snug against steep cliffs – where remnants of snow cling to rocks on the far side. It is the place we pick to monitor the fire’s behavior. To…
Apples
I found the bear one fall day as clouds slouched up the valley, pushed by an incoming storm. Crows flapped in the alders and before I could reason the oddness of so many, the dog was off and tearing into whatever was there below the trees. I shouldn’t say I found the bear. I’d already heard rumors…
A Day Writing
9:05 AM – Sit down to write. Open new Word document. Look at blank page. Go check email. Check blog. Check Facebook. 10:05 AM – Realize hour has passed. Close Facebook. Return to blank document. Write for several minutes about not writing. Decide to check blog stats. Go like stuff on…
Finding The Trail
We circle as I point down at the trees. There, I say, is the spot. I see a creek and a patch of alder. It is the first patch of alder beyond the bridge site. The opening I saw on the aerial photos back in the Forest Service office, the place on the map where…
The End of Summer
The day is hot. Hot, and I’m exhausted and sluggish and full of effort from the heat. So sluggish I say, lets drive to the river. All summer long I’ve insisted on walking or biking, even carrying inner tubes and life vests and water and food and shoes and towels and pulling dogs on leashes. Now I…
Three Steps and Two Blinks of an Eye
The cottonwoods stand out now, making the difference between the light green of the alder and billowy yellow of the cottonwood leaves obvious. We see this now as we scramble up the mossy rocks that lead to the bluffs overlooking the Stillaguamish River valley. I hold tight to my son’s hand, tell him to stay…
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. …
Unravel
I awoke to unravel. The word. The verb. I don’t know why. I listen to my heart beat. Listen to the seemingly endless thud, thud, thud. It pauses and flutters and then as if I hit refresh, continues to bump along. I guess many things would unravel should the beat fail. Unravel, as in fail….
