Kersten is delighted by how quickly we arrive at the trailhead, and after two dashes back to the car—Kersten to shed her sweater and I to retrieve my hair tie—we launch our Thursday morning adventure.
Probing my raison d’etre.
When disaster strikes, we reach for the familiar — something sturdy like the trunk of a tree — and hold on.
I wrote this post in 2016 and Sheri McGregor put it in an anthology, a kind of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” for nature freaks. The essay would belong to Sowing Creek Press for a year following publication after which I could do anything I wanted with it, such as post it here on Plastic […]
They say you never miss the water ’till the well runs dry.