Tags » On The Writing Life

Ceremonial Colors

Into a stiff wind and spits of rain we climbed high on a Triassic ridge. Among the gray mudstone was a spill of red ochre. One chunk was handy as a pencil: I tried it on a rock, thinking about how our Paleolithic ancestors used ochre to paint bodies for dance, delight and death. 27 more words

Walking All Day On Stone


Many Archaic firepits. Circles of black soil on yellow sand, red heaps of burned rock. The mesa ridges were wind-scoured, not a grain of loose sand, streaks and gullies gouged by the wind. 62 more words

Walking All Day On Stone

Blast from the Past

In the wilderness, so many unexpected traces of humans.

In a roadless canyon we came upon the disintegrating remains of a camp Jan had stumbled on, just abandoned, in the 70s. 35 more words

Walking All Day On Stone

I Wish I Could Do That

In the Jemez Mountains under a Maynard Dixon sky, lazing like lizards. As we sat on the edge of the high mesa a half dozen swallows buzzed our ears like bullets, like a mechanical breath. 25 more words

Walking All Day On Stone