Not many people know about Mill Creek Mountain (at least, we didn't think they did, but I’ll get to that). I wouldn’t know it myself were it not for Don and Bo Sosebee, for Vesta Baptist Church in the valley below it, and for Jared, who took me there. Jared and I took a drive … Continue reading On Behalf of Mill Creek Mountain
Aspen trees grow on the mountains out West in light, shining forests, because they are knit underground by a root system. Each tree sends out shoots that sprout into nearby aspens, so if the mother tree should get chopped or die, she’ll send her last life to her children. The “clone” trees of a mother … Continue reading An Aspen Forest
The Ozark Trail ambles down eastern Missouri, flanked by shortleaf pines and tracing the foothills, in places skipping over rocks and roots like a stony river. It’s a dream of mine to walk from its trailhead (just forty minutes from here) clear to the western edge of the Mark Twain National Forest— some 230 miles. … Continue reading Rocks Of Remembrance
In 2015, the International Dark Sky Association named the town of Westcliffe, Colorado a “Dark Sky Community.” In 2015, I was fourteen and had never heard of the International Dark Sky Association. I was slogging through the eighth grade, so I didn’t know that when I graduated high school, I’d take a trip to Westcliffe--- … Continue reading Dark Enough to See
My Aunt Andi flew down from Alaska last weekend for a visit, and she told us how the snow outside her window in Wasilla is already inching down the mountains. The closer it falls to tree line, the sooner the long winter will settle in, when the sun will set at three in the afternoon. … Continue reading Ember
The wildflowers grow small up on the Rockies. I looked up their biological names when I got home, and nearly all of them were "Dwarf" species. One alpine sunflower was even named, "Old Man of the Mountain," and isn't that perfect? The bluebells and yellow roses are just little, old Dwarves on a Lonely Mountain. … Continue reading Three Thoughts from the Mountain
June 23 The Psalmist paints with powerful metaphors. He calls God a Rock. But until two weeks ago, that comparison did little to move me. Then we crossed the border and watched Colorado peaks rise from the plains. The mountains traveled with us, ridged with veins of snow. They encompassed us and astounded us and … Continue reading God My Rock
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