Plodding, or Does the Hike Count if the Steps Don’t?
I may have just wasted my one good, cool nature fact, and this isn’t even a nature essay.
I may have just wasted my one good, cool nature fact, and this isn’t even a nature essay.
I’ve probably had more sunny Christmases than white ones. And yet, as a kid, it never really felt like Christmas without snow.
I had forgotten land existed beyond the concrete.
It’s all in how you tell the story.
Summer feels syrupy thick and cloying, on the edge of overripe.
We passed the turnoff for Eden’s class—the furthest she’d ever been in a car—shortly after sunrise and kept on going.
I carry a nostalgia the rest of the day that aches from the reality that some lives have been lived and some friendships have blurred.
As it turned out, carb loading for thirtysomethings is rather different to carb loading for teens.
Ruins should horrify us—grim testaments to our permanent impermanence
Living in the shadows of 14,000 foot peaks, the mountains offered ample lectures on living with limited light.