Just like that, my daily morning routine of walking in Soaring Eagle state park came to an end. Not one, but three signs were posted by the trailhead: recent cougar activity reported. The signs were white with red lettering, all… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
The Fool
I woke at 0300 and broke camp, reacquired the ridge above the lake before sunrise. The lake was pale like a dime in the predawn as seen from above. From the ridge you could see the snow-covered peaks surrounding the… Read More ›
A different kind of fish
I got to the Marblemount ranger station an hour before it opened, at 6, one other guy in a van with long hair, bearded, already there. They had a Please Take A Number stand and an LED display showing number… Read More ›
The devil’s back side
Here was that spot I’d come to that day in the forest it was snowing. I’d been wanting to find this spot but the trails splinter off and I never look at the maps, I just splice the sections together… Read More ›
The World
It was the last of the tarot-reading Saturday morning overnight music programs on our local radio station, the last card in the major arcana, The World. And so I tried to catch it all live by getting up at 3:30… Read More ›
An ocean of clouds
July 11 It’s now been a week since I’ve been eating those chicken thighs I grilled on the Fourth. Somehow no one seems to vibe with my Jamaican jerk chicken. I marinaded it for 36 hours in habaneros, scallions, ginger,… Read More ›
The days run away like Teslas over the hills
Dawn and I started to see the rest of our lives unfold and it was interconnected with this house, this yard. A matter of ongoing refinement, settling in. I had no business eating this cheese but didn’t want to waste… Read More ›
Judgment
The trail is dry at the park and crunches underfoot. For the first time I brought a bunch of people with me to my morning walk, Dawn’s family who’s visiting from out of state. We’d just be out for an… Read More ›
The Can
Just a few days past the solstice and already I imagined the morning light had changed. But it was that queer wildfire effect from somewhere making the sunlight pink-gold, all the treetops like a Maxfield Parrish painting psychedelic. I first… Read More ›
Sporting Life
There was the sweetest deer and her fawn that had been coming around the yard. But I didn’t want them munching on Dawn’s lace tree so I sprayed it with coyote urine. I used a lot more than I needed… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 