I love this tree. In every season I have hiked up a steep trail and sat under these branches, listening to the whisper of the wind, leaning against the subtly fragrant bark, a sense of timelessness and depth rooting me to this space. With my wide open hand pressed firmly into the center of the belly bark I've felt the tremor of the earth, and the connection to all living beings.
Openhearted
One of the last flowers that blooms in the Mt. Rose Wilderness is fireweed. The first time I saw it, and fell in love with it was in Alaska on a trip with my son, Raymond Molt. The exquisite color, the shape of the blossoms and the way it bobs and nods in the field always makes me think I've entered a world of elves and fairies.
