When we take walks, my dog, Juju, trots along contentedly at my heels. Then, when the moment arrives to turn around and head towards home, she throws a little dog joy fit—first prancing on two legs, then full body wiggle-wagging. On the return, she gets out front, confidently taking the lead. She does this even if we are camping or on a hike and home is...
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Caring for aging parents is a rite of passage many of my friends, now in our fifties, are navigating with various degrees of grace. Despite the common human experience of parenting our parents and facing the inevitability of our own demise; for each of us it is uncharted territory. Luckily I have two sisters to share this journey, and support of my...
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“We kept on dancing last summer though the dancing had been called subversive. We weren’t alone at the end of this particular world and knew it wouldn’t be the last world, though wars had broken out on all sides.” Excerpts from the poem In Praise of Earth by Joy Harjo appear in quotations throughout this essay. By the time Sunday rolls around in a farm...
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On the spring equinox, I was in the midst of arranging bouquets for the first week of my spring flower share when flood waters rose rapidly. Beaver Creek is across the street, 500 feet from our farm gate, and was steadily becoming more fierce from rain on top of snowmelt pummeling down from Flagstaff. Within minutes we were considering evacuation, as our...
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In between snowstorms last week, I braved the snowbanks in downtown Flagstaff to visit the Bright Side Bookshop. Inside the store, it felt like spring. Colorful words bloomed from book covers, and flowers, birds, and butterflies alighted from blank journals. I was searching for inspiration; in particular the poetic kind. Like the squirrels who have...
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