The days passed in lazy friendship, while Girl’s bruises and aches slowly started to heal. Finally came the day when she was tired of behaving sensibly, and hanging around the cabin all the time. No matter how entertaining – or infuriating, or amusing – the Bear could be, she was aware that the world around them was beautiful, and she was seeing only the part she could witness from the cabin’s porch. So, they began a seri...

When Bear returned from getting his lunch and marking the boundaries of his territory, Girl was again asleep in the rocking chair. One hand was trailing down the side, her head lolled against a shoulder, and she was drooling slightly. He stopped to look at her, and again shook his head. “Poor kid.” He gently picked her up and carried her into the great room of the cabin. She stirred, smiled, leaned her head against his ch...

High up among the mountain peaks, 'Midst towering trees and flowing creeks; There I will find a holy space, That’s filled with beauty, love, and Grace. In this temple I shall bow and pray, And worship to the Cosmos pay.    

Eons ago, when I was young, I lived in submarines. For someone who loves the mountains, it was a silly place to be. I was in an unhealthy space, and close to a nervous breakdown. I spent a lot of time wondering what life was all about. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. I did, however, come to a conclusion. When I am near the end, and am asked, ‘Have you done the things you wish to do?'  I want to answer, ‘Yes!’ Or a...

This is a story about my mom’s romp through the woods in Jasper. I am grateful that she is mobile and active, even though she has survived breast cancer thirty years ago. My mom and her partner Tim were hiking in the mountains when the path they were on became narrower and narrower until it was only a mere goat path. Then the terrain became swampy and mom had to step through some moss, and her foot sank down into the wate...

Two months ago I spent 31 days backpacking China. I didn’t write much on my adventure, but here are the poems I wrote on the trains or in the mountains. A Sun Kissed Phoenix From Dali She stood in the aisle, Sun kissed through the windows of the train, Like Zhou Yu’s ghost. She stood as though She wanted my eyes upon her, She smiled as though She knew they were. She looked left and right and back But she wouldn’t look my...

When I was small: My mom looked out the kitchen window at the Mission Mountains. “They are so large today. The Sheep’s Head is so amazing. Pumpkin, come here.” She lifted me to the window. I saw snow. She pointed. “Do you see the Sheep’s Head?” she said. I saw some sticks that looked a little like antlers. “It’s over there, the horns curl, see,” she said. “I can’t see any sheep,” I said. “It’s there,” she was so emphatic...

2 Grace Dobson leaned against a red, brick wall of an old factory building. Hiding in the shadows she watched the cars that drove past. Every once in a while a neighbor would walk past the alley Grace rested in. Taller neighbors would walk right past the alley, chatting with companions or into phones. A few walked by alone, huddling their coats closer to ward out the chill of November. Periodically, shorter individuals dr...

The sweet and bitter scents mixed together to create the soothing atmosphere that was only available in such establishments. Two young women wearing t-shirts of a rich chocolate color covered by purple aprons darted from the cash register to the machines behind the counter. A large crowd of men and women, dressed in an array of fashions, congregated in front of the counter. Men in suits with ties carrying briefcases waite...

The Cottage I took a strand of mountain land where no one’s built before – on earth that’s piled a quarter mile above the valley floor. A patch of ground beyond the sound of busy humans’ tread – where breeze’s sway and birds of prey are sounds you’ll hear instead. A place to be where I can see, amongst the falls and streams – a cottage hewn from wood and stone, and shored with timber-beams. A roof of shake with ample rake...