Subtle

By K D | March 10, 2018

I see the subtly in things to a disturbing degree. I see the betraying twitch of an eye in conversation or hear a change of inflection. I watch a snowflake falling through the bows of a tree while listening to someone speaking. I pick up on someone tapping their finger once, and I pick up…

Read More

In a March of Snows

By K D | March 5, 2018

Towards the end of February the clouds began to break and it started to look like winter would begin to wane, but at the end of the month the clouds came back and it started to snow heavily again. In March the snows continued and each morning was grey and white except for the forests…

Read More

The Haunting Tree

By K D | March 1, 2018

There is a tree nearby that haunts me, rooted deeply into the hillside and growing up far into the horizon crooked and crippled, imperfect. And when I look at it, I then look out across the Marron Valley at Parker Mountain, and my eyes follow all of the aberrations of contours, the patterns of trees…

Read More

The Undercurrent

By K D | February 24, 2018

Tonight I wandered the property with the dog. It was dark but with a bright cradle of moon, bright enough even through the clouds that it cast light on the sidecut pathway across the hills, and across the valley below dotted with headlights and farm lights. It made shadows out of the tallest sage bushes…

Read More

Minutiae

By K D | February 14, 2018

I don’t even know what this is, but I like the wording. Sometimes I just write to hear myself talk. 🙂 I’m in bed with the tiny things. Not organization or complex steps and process, but that thing that is a lot more subtle than this, that thing that lies under the finer details. A sideways…

Read More

In tight Quarters

By K D | February 13, 2018

What a great and terrifying experience. In the tight quarters of a fifth wheel trailer everything is amplified. Sitting on the couch I am three feet from three furnace exhaust fans blasting heat, and the cold air return. I’m four feet from the kitchen that also serves as dining room with kitty litter box, front…

Read More

A Stone Quiet Firmament

By K D | February 1, 2018

Everything is stone quiet; the snow-covered fields, traffic on the highway distant below, jet planes above in the firmament. Even the farm dogs deep in the valley volleying barks with the coyotes, all of that tussle muted on the damp, heavy air. Everything is stone quiet. Stone quiet, and the moon is one day past…

Read More

Being Present, Right Now

By K D | January 29, 2018

Some days it strikes me that most important things I learn through the days I’ve already known at one point or another. Being present is one of them. This morning I was walking back from the gas station where I’m working. I stopped to pet the neighbor’s dogs who came running out to the road…

Read More

Powerful Words from a First Nations Elder

By K D | January 26, 2018

A year or two ago I was fortunate enough to hear elder Sykes Powderface speaking to a small group of mostly First Nations students at Exshaw School in the Canadian Rockies. He was telling them stories of growing up, of learning from his parents and grandparents, and the students sat riveted. When he asked them…

Read More

Self Serve Gas Station

By K D | January 21, 2018

This is poorly written, but what the hell. 11:30. It’ll take me about twenty minutes to walk there and I’m to start at 1:00, so I have about an hour left before my first shift. I’ll need to shower. I shaved yesterday. I’ll need to dig out some clothes too that don’t look like I…

Read More