evening walks with my parents are pretty definitive of my adult life at home- catching the golden hour & chatting in the cooler moments of MD summer. 

Sun catches the tassels of corn fields, heat rises from the road and the stone walls lining our way & birds make their way to their evening roosts. Last night I gathered wildflowers along the way, naming them & their sweet familiarity. 


never stop chasing the sun. 



The garden is thriving while much of the other life around here is falling to winter’s grip. Smoke from the fires across the northwest fills our little valley, so much so that most days I cannot see the mountains across the lake. The cycle of fire & drought, of growth & death, of dark & light is natural, but nonetheless stirring, in this place. I’m thankful for the hope of each day’s sun, the bravery of those fighting these fires & the dependable way the seasons shift. 

the summer air is now laced with autumn breezes. time is passing.

sunset diaries

watched the sun sink below the mountains from a different part of the lake last night as I remembered Ben on his birthday & prayed that we might all be brave, hard working & authentic in his honor. 


maintain the light. 

six months.

“This is the earnest work/ each of us is given only so many mornings to do it/ to look around and love”

(Mary Oliver)


half a year in this stunning place, believe it or not. Some mornings I am particularly struck by the fact that I LIVE here. This is not a vacation or a short term commitment, this is my home.

I am grateful for all the things I’ve learned in the last six months, especially the hard lessons, because those are the ones that shape is the most.

I’m grateful for sore legs from hiking and skiing these beautiful mountains. For my sunset spot & the comforts of a familiar sky. For people to smile with, even at 7am on a busy weekend. For all the people I have hosted at camp & the ways they have shown me love. For learning to be alone. For time to make new adventures, every day. For letters from far away & the reminder of how vast my community is. For my family & their consistent encouragement. For the spirit’s work on days when I really need to be reminded of god’s hand in my life. For resiliency. For the thousand little pieces of my life that prepared me for this giant leap. For love.

Can’t wait for the next six months & beyond. Take the leap, y’all, it’s almost always worth it.


big sky country

november 2014 iphone 079

I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana, it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you are in it.

(john steinbeck)




I am reminded with each passing day how lucky I am to have the chance to wake up and see sights like this every day. A reminder of the good in the world, a reminder to remain humble, a reminder to love each moment. god bless montana.

winter’s first

We woke up to the tiniest snowfall down here by the lake. There has been snow on the peaks for weeks now, and I’ve been hiking through it up high since I got here, but it hadn’t shown itself down low yet.



The first snowfall always make me feel like a child again, running to the window every few minutes to make sure it’s still falling, anticipating the next day’s activities. I love the quiet of a snowy morning and the way pine trees stand out through the white.



We have a long winter ahead of us, but for now, I am enjoying the stillness of the lake and the beauty of snow covered mountains. Stay warm, wherever you are!


in season

The leaves have bent their way toward winter, shrinking in size; their pigment scorching in death. The mountains around here are speckled with deep yellow as the golden larch trees show their fall colors. Up in the higher mountains of the park, the aspens have already begun to shrink, but they are still burning brightly here by the lake.

I have traded my long sleeve tees for flannel, and my chacos for boots. I often take a walk or go for a run after dinner; the chill in the air reminds me of so many nights spent outside camping as a kid. Autumn in the far north is different from the east coast seasons of my childhood, but bright blue sky and yellowing leaves always peak my spirit. Thankful for the opportunity to be in a period of transition along with the earth.