Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Tag: Backpacking
Ramona Falls’ Mist
Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon… Continue Reading “Ramona Falls’ Mist”
Traveling Near the Dark
There’s a quietness about the river broken by a random leap, splash of steelheads. a prairie hawk loses a feather. The natives drink a loud liquor on their fishing platforms, dip nets looking for fish who choose to become parts of ceremonies. The… Continue Reading “Traveling Near the Dark”
Ghost Story For The Wilderness Impaired
She’s a ghost. I know that. She brushes her fingers along my shoulders and I will look up to find her playing among the trees, pretending to be the wind. She’ll drop a pinecone or a small branch as a reminder. Then, off she… Continue Reading “Ghost Story For The Wilderness Impaired”
Above Multnomah Falls
This warm winter makes the creek scream like spring. I dip my hand in, as far in as my long sleeves let me Smooth stones, slick, cold life, years in my hands. My fragile blood beats, knows the water by heart. It’s good… Continue Reading “Above Multnomah Falls”
The Small River
Although I haven’t seen the small river yet… the one tucked back in the Coast Range, I know the trees will come up to its edge, some will lean too close, arching over the water. Ferns will dot its shores, trailing back to darker… Continue Reading “The Small River”
The High Desert
The cougar is up high in a yellow pine, hidden. I only see his misplaced paw print, formed when the mud was thick last spring. Now, the trail has dried into cracks, wrinkles in the earth, his movement of the past solidified. He won’t… Continue Reading “The High Desert”
Baskett Slough
There’s so many speaking, not wanting to give up the slough. They’ve had it for the entire winter… to themselves Chickadees, common nighthawks, grebes, sneaky rails and coots. The marsh, still cold…wet…wants to capture my clumsy steps. Grasses hide the outer rim of… Continue Reading “Baskett Slough”
The Ledge
Out on the ledge, the snow hushes the wild. This kind of quiet soothes while it scares Strange mixture of awareness. A lone northern harrier is the only singer. She strafes the powder with one beat of her wings Eyes on everything, including me.… Continue Reading “The Ledge”
Labyrinth
Coyote Wall, Washington, February 2019. Click on image to enlarge. More images found here.
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