Recently, on a morning run, I used a stick to lift a dead kangaroo rat off the trail. The white belly fur was vivid in the dawn, long back legs outstretched, tail curled into a U, the body stiff and frozen.
We found Emma in a circus tent filled with border collies and “lab mixes” at a pet adoption event 12 years ago. While dozens of dogs barked, smiled, wagged, and encouraged us to pick them...
A few weeks ago, before we moved to our house on the edge of the forest, and one of the last times I pulled into the Maston trailhead parking lot in the dark, I was not surprised to be the only car.
I never really wanted to live in Utah. For at least 6 years I claimed to be on the “one year plan.” My problem was with Utah’s urban areas, but the surrounding landscapes turned out to be a huge exploration opportunity.
Yesterday my shoulder surgeon told me I was “stiff, but nice.” I struggled to figure out what nice meant in terms of healing, but then he added, “Most people aren’t very happy with me when their shoulder is still stiff at 12 weeks.” Ugh.