I live and write on Lingít Aaní, and gratefully acknowledge the past, present and future caretakers of this beautiful place, the Jilkaat Kwaan and Jilkoot Kwaan.
Joy Harjo has a book titled How We Became Human. She opens it with an epigraph by Nizzar Kabbani: What kind of nation is this Deleting Love from its curriculum The mystery of a women’s eyes What kind of nation is this Battling each rain cloud… You do not...
“Hope is not a matter of waiting for things outside of us to get better. It is about getting better inside about what is going on outside.” — Joan D. Chittister
It is amazing to me how a very healthy person can be slayed by the tiniest of bacteria– and how I went from hale and hearty to sleepy and weepy so fast. It helps me feel for the Covid long haulers, although what I had was not Covid, it still lingered long past...
For you today, some comforting and wise words from CMarie Fuhrman, the current Idaho Writer in Residence and co-editor of Native Voices: Indigenous American Poetry, Craft and Conversations. CMarie Furham, whom I am grateful to have met last summer in Homer at the...
The last cruise ship of the season is here. So is the first day full day of Fall, and also right on time: white frosting on the high peaks and ridges– I don’t like to call it termination dust, since the first snow on the mountains feels as much like a...
Last night the sow and cubs were back in the mountain ash trees. Chip shined the flashlight out the bedroom window, clapped and told them to “git.” The dogs growled and barked (from safe inside the house) and the bears loped off and we sort of fell back...
