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.


giving thanks (these days)

summer has slipped by in a way that always surprises me; even after 6 summers of camp . The days feel long and I am often too tired to read or write much of anything, but I am thankful for hard work and the ways that I am loved in this place. We have two weeks left with campers and some summer staff have already left to move on to the next steps in life. I am grateful for all the laughter & joy that this summer has brought, and beginning to feel sad about it ending, but comforted in the knowledge that our community will remain.

Lately I’ve been thankful for long, long hikes to places like this,


for sun filled days on the lake, laughing and learning together,


for visits from dear friends & the joy of sharing this place with them,




& for daily reminders to be present, to be kind & to live freely.


happy august to you all; what are you thankful for today?

giving thanks (these days)

summer is in full swing in the interior west, and it feels both familiar and brand new in a million ways. the way the sun settles into the lake each night stills my mind and gives me peace at heart. 

lately I have been really thankful for mountain lakes & good hiking buddies, 

for feeling small in a big, big world, 


for the joy & laughter of campers,


and for the promise that we are never alone, even in our deepest sadness and struggle. 

I have been discerning the future a lot this week and am hoping for some clarity soon, but am also so happy to be here, in this place, at this time. Being brave. 

What are you thankful for today? 

giving thanks (these days)

I hesitate to say that spring is here because it’s possible that we could get snow any day, but these past few weeks of sunshine and warmer breezes have certainly tilted my heart and hopes toward summer. The geese are back, the lake is calmly collecting the spring runoff and the sky is blue as a painting.

Montana has these magic qualities about it: the consistent smell of pine in the air, a slow pace to the day as the sun takes it’s time settling beyond the mountains, the surreal way the lake meets the blue sky. I don’t often have to remind myself to be thankful for our world, because it is so present in my life- from the first glimpse of the lake in the morning to the sleepy way the stars reveal themselves each night. I’ve had two dear friends visit this month and it has been so joyful to watch them revel in this place.

Lately I’ve been feeling really grateful for final glimpses of frost and ice,


for long drives through our beautiful, beautiful country,


for desert reunions with G,


and for the promises for the future that spring always holds.


praying for y’all as we make our way through holy week- what are you grateful for today?  

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.


giving thanks (these days)

Today, Montana was improbably warm & sunny for early February; the sky as blue as a summer day. I hiked 6 miles, hammocked in the sun & ended my day with guac & a beer. Happy Sunday, friends!

Lately, I have been grateful for camp songs & new friends,


For sweet gifts from a retreat guest & my daily yoga practice,


For long hikes & the most beautiful mountains,


And for days warm enough for hammocks & books.


What are you thankful for today?

cottage living

IMG_8198-0I woke up to two inches of fresh snow and fog rising off the lake, blending with the mountains and reflecting the morning sun. This weekend was busy and tiring but entirely joy filled. Having a group of kids at camp always lifts my spirits, but this weekend I got to lead the retreat, rather than just be the person at meals. It felt so good to be leading games and songs, watching the kids laugh together and support each other. Spaces like camp are special, important and meaningful & I will never stop believing that.

Today is for rest, after 48 hours of shouting, singing, laughing, skiing and working. The light this morning was stunning and I thought I’d take advantage of it & take a few photos of my little house, and the pieces of it that make it my home.


This ivy was on the brink of death when I found it outside a cabin this fall. Inside, near my huge picture window, it’s doing much better.


Ginny bought me these two prints about two years ago, with no knowledge that I’d be moving to Montana in the future. The wood wall hanging is made from trees that grew and were harvested at Mar Lu Ridge, my forever home.


little comforts.


plants & mountains, always. (banner by ginny)


Maybe one day I will make my bed every morning, but that day has not yet come.

I am anxiously awaiting warmer days, when I can eat outside on the porch in the evening, and string my hammock up under the deck. Until then, it’s not a bad spot to watch the snow fall.

giving thanks (these days)

We are about 3 months into Montana winter. There’s lots of snow on the ground, but the air is crisp and the sky is blue, so I’m feeling pretty good.

Lately, I’ve been thankful for quiet moments with my poetry books,


For big sky ski days & the beauty that’s all around,


For colors like this to start my day,


And for new adventures, sore muscles & laughter with my coworkers.