Forget the trees, those weeds. Ridge after ridge, the buckled land is lit with a shimmering green flame.
Forget the trees, those weeds. Ridge after ridge, the buckled land is lit with a shimmering green flame.
Even a dozen years back, this was rattlesnake territory. Then came the dynamite. We remember the lost spirits of the hill with flowers, these little fountains of molten snow. That’s what winter […]
You know there is a little bit of the grassland left when you find some needle-and-thread grass on a hill. It’s almost invisible, but when the light is right, in the low […]
Such healthy bunchgrass this year, in full flower. Glorious!
What do you think? Chance? Design? Or something to do with how marmots fit together in small spaces, in balanced proportions, the winter through, transferred into the “memory” left by two(?) bodies […]
As we work to express our identities as people of this land (as distinct from people who live on this land) … Chelan River … we do well to remember that the […]
Grass evolved to thrive in hot fire landscapes. Given that human activity has increased heat and fire … … across the planet … … shouldn’t we stop mowing grass and … … […]
This flow… … is mapped as “The Okanogan River.” It is a colonial term, yet certainly not the most egregious. I live near the top of its headwaters. Head of the Lake […]
Climate change, eh. Here at McLaughlin’s Canyon on the Old Trail to the North, the water that undercut the canyon wall is long gone, as is the fire that took the firs […]
Who said Chinese elms have no place here, eh. It wouldn’t be spring without the mourning cloaks! In the Similkameen they are deep purple, the colour of spring catkins. Here in the […]