Last year, we counted off the signs of civilization as we lost them. This year, those same amenities crowd back into our vision like not-particularly-welcome relatives.
Mary’s illness gave me the opportunity to paint rock-flour water, so I backtracked to Muncho Lake and the Toad River. Good mother, egh?
Last night a friend messaged me that she was seriously ill. She’s at that age when women get breast cancer, so that’s what I feared. No such luck; she has a primary brain tumor. I can tell you all the ways she is special: she’s a PhD scientist, a mother, a professor, a wife, a church […]