From the Field

by Jenny Root

A Road Called Wilderness
Another Wildland Urban Interface
Lichen and Winter Light and
Crawfish on the Bike Path

by Cynthia Pappas

I planted myself on this 66-acre farm in the McKenzie River watershed in western Oregon more than 36 years ago when I married my farmer husband. After living for 26 years in a city, the deep quiet was initially disorienting. As I learned the stories of the animals and plants that live here, and their songs and sounds, I began to rewild my soul.

by Mary Sharon Moore

From the expansive east-facing windows in my fourth-floor living room I behold the tender light of dawn. Coupled with the quiet of this early hour, the view is stunning.

by Michael S. Smith

I began to hear a gentle tapping on the tent fly. Then it stopped for a bit, began again, and increased. It was raining, and judging by how the clouds had looked all day and earlier this evening, the rain was likely to continue for some time.

by Brenda Johnson Kame’enui

At the hub of five valleys, Missoula glistens in late June. None of the hills and hummocks that surround the valley have turned brown after a wet spring. I love Montana. I left here at 17 and return each year, at least once. I’m here with my daughter Ani for a float trip on the Selway River of Idaho.

by Alan Contreras

He brought me here
when I was fourteen,
my hair long and dark much as yours is,
and I brought your mother
before she was ten
to see the great marsh and the mountain.