Yeah. I know. I snaked the title from James Joyce. But Adam and I are on a little Eurotrip, so creativity is waning in favor of staying up a bit too late. Our first night in Dublin is anything but dull, not that dull has ever been a word used to describe Ireland. I’m not …
There is Sagebrush, growing on the lining of the trail. It is medicinal in all the ways it plants its healing essence in my mind. The scent of it, smokey and wild, like cedar, rich and smooth but thick with how it clings heavy in the air. When I pluck a branch, the syrup of …
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The Wild Heart of Life 