I have been working on my book like a fiend. Like some little witch nestled away, brewing her magic. Which doesn’t leave much time for very nearly anything at all. That being said, I was thinking about dogs the other day. About what they mean for adventure and for life. I was thinking about my …
Continue reading Something about Dogs
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 …
Continue reading Sights and Scents and Dreams of California
When I speak, the ghost of self leaks out my mouth. Like smoke, or vapor. My fingers curl out from my nostrils. I am watching the all of me cast out and drive away. It is too hot here. And the world is far too sad. There is too much anger for the sadness, as if we …
Continue reading Bird Watching
Adam’s been losing his mind over tax season and I’ve been losing my mind over writing this damn memoir so together we decided, as is our annual tradition, to find the minds we’ve lost somewhere together. This year it’s Twin Peaks, partially because I fell in love with that bizarre Netflix show, and mostly because …
Varghese told us he was taking us to see the elephants. And boy did we see elephants. When you first arrive, you walk past them, sitting on their piles of fresh greenery. They let you choose from a list of activities—we decided to skip the lumber toss. Neither one of us were really into forcing …
Continue reading On the Backs of Elephants
So there’s this bridge, yeah? The Swinging Bridge [of death] strung like a tightrope over some pretty chill looking rapids and by chill I mean frigid not cool. My boyfriend’s running back and forth across it like a Circus Act and I’m just kind of lingering at one end, swiping the toe of my boot …
Continue reading A Laugh like Butterflies
My mother has always said that I’m a runner. When the going gets tough, I get going. She says I’ve done it ever since I was a little girl. And I have to say, I do remember a smaller version of myself, backpack fully loaded, heading out the door. Proclaiming to any who was listening …
Continue reading Things like love.
I’m sitting at a picnic bench, boiling quinoa, because that’s the hipster thing to do. Also, I’m a millennial, so I might as well act the part. A patch nosed snake slithers by and, despite the lack of venom, I get a funny feeling running up the back of my spine. It doesn’t help that …
Continue reading The things we seek…
The Wild Heart of Life 