Thunder, Lightning, and I Found My Spirit Animal

Ahhhhh, Takhini Hot Springs… a lovely outdoor Olympic pool-sized bath fed by the natural hot springs of the Takhini underworld, where everything moves as if in slow-motion– like after dancing it up all night in the club then walking into daylight for the first time in a blurry-eyed state of blissful exhaustion just as the…

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Behemoth’s Maiden Voyage, Day 1: Wah, I want to go home!

The first five minutes in the Behemoth weren’t good. On first smell I could tell something wasn’t right. Then something in the truck caused my hyper sensitive lungs to react, and suddenly I needed my inhaler.  On our first corner we climbed a small hill, and our flatbed Chevy Cheyenne work truck slowly putted up…

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Now’s the time to make art

Everything happens in threes. Last fall my grandmother passed away. A month ago my husband’s father died. I always wondered who’s going to be the third? And then coronavirus happened. So much grief. We don’t know anyone personally who has passed from the coronavirus. We live in Juneau Alaska where so far only 10 people…

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The Silver Lining of Being High Risk for COVID-19

I’ve always had asthma, starting at age four when I had to live an oxygen tent for a week, and more recently when I wound up in the emergency room with trouble breathing. Yes, I own an emergency inhaler and a nebulizer and I take asthma control medicine. Still, there have been times that none…

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From a Distance

Today we drew animals and read about the Titanic. We drove our cars slowly— imagine a snail, then slow it down even more. Every day is like a Sunday, like moving underwater, like when Alaska burned & smoke circled us in a dream. What other than a crisis can put you in the moment, without…

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stop and smell the proses

Here in the Prose Garden, we dig into the news that you won’t hear on the radio. Nature holds a mirror up to ourselves as we explore the entropy of humanity, parenting, and life in Southeast Alaska. awards: Winner of Alaska Statewide Poetry contest, Spring 2020, Fairbanks Arts Association Ukiyoto Publishing Best Global Blogs of…

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the day before snow

A devil’s club graveyard all that remains, bones of a mighty clubbed fortress reduced to small brown skeletons, silent, still scaffolds of what once was. This is how you say madrugada in English– the coldest, darkest, undead hour when spirits roam the earth, right before the first snow:  the rainforest so dry and quiet bones and shapes, negative space,…

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