Tag Archives: creative non-fiction

Birdsong reports before dawn

We set the coffeemaker to go off at 3 and it did. I got back from the airport before 5 and walked to the lake in the rain without an umbrella to see if anything happened and my friend Tim … Continue reading

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Night falls on Teanaway

Ginger licks the sleep out of my eye, licks the insides of the rain fly for condensation, doesn’t understand tent etiquette or the idea of personal space, steals my sleeping bag each time I get up, looks like Kermit the … Continue reading

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Reed College walk, Portland

Spooling around southeast Portland with my childhood friend Loren, the guys with beards pouring growlers and pints at the neighborhood bottle shop flipping records, preparing dishes with fresh oysters, grated horseradish, a bed of sea salt. Past the antique shops where … Continue reading

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Chameleon, don’t paint yourself the color of perfection

It was very late August that summer we stopped in Portland on the way to the Redwoods and Loren made me some CD with early Pink Floyd I hadn’t heard, and I waited to play it until we left a … Continue reading

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Canyon Road bookends

I unrolled the gravity-fed water filter bladder that still smelled like campfire from a year ago, collected a few liters of stream water and hung it from a tree by our camp while Brad finished a cigarette and started a … Continue reading

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Deceiver Trail to Far Country Lookout

I took the Deceiver Trail, the S3, past the Licorice Fern cul-de-sac to a crumpled-up viewpoint where there wasn’t much to see but it sounded nice with the water collecting in a dark pool by a leaning sign, Far Country … Continue reading

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Sunday’s solemn features

We got back to our vitamins, raw almonds, coconut milk — shopping for the best price on gas, how the clouds cling to the hills on a Sunday morning, the treetops tucked in, gone back to sleep. Even though it’s … Continue reading

Posted in death, musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments