Weather Reports from Other Species
We're recuperating from last week's clinic in Wyoming. I heard more smoke moved in the next day, so the timing...
Anna Pretends to be Jane, or History Comes Alive for Jolene
I'm doing it again. Pretending to be Jane Goodall... you know, if she got a herd of sheep. I was...
Sheeps… Or Things to Do While Mourning
Mister, who is the voice of conservative reason and common sense, looks me in the eye. What starts as socializing...
Jolene Meets the Grandfather Horse (Who Has Been Dead for Years)
I wasn't thinking, really. The car was packed the night before. I got dressed while Jolene walked me, room to...
Authors, Literary Dogs, and Artificial Intelligence
A beady-eyed burnt-orange sun crept over a smoky horizon, and it's hot-air balloon season in Colorado. Juxtaposition: A new day...
Totally Quanked and in Search of Our Own Personal Pickleball
Yes, it's a proper word. I didn't make it up, but I wish I had. Quanked is in the 1893...
Horsewoman, Has Your Neighborhood Gone to the Dogs?
I traipsed across Minnesota and North Dakota through factory farms and cemeteries this summer. Trying to link childhood memories with...
Falling in Love All Over Again for the First Time
Coming home, the washboard road is as close to a drumroll as we'll get. We are bleary-eyed and dog-tired. I...
The Cemetery of My People, Part Two
Road trips have a feeling of being unstuck anyway, but this trip to the land of my people was like...
Traveling to the Cemetery of My People, Part One
Mister is barking in a steady rhythm. His metronome bark. Consider it a warning siren. He knows. There is a...
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