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An essay about compost, and moving back to Missoula. I’m lurching around Missoula’s University District on a big blue e-bike, towing a trailer of trash cans full of food scraps and anxiously waving at the traffic that lets me through, one of the small niceties people can grant you that you don’t realize goes so
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Author’s Note: This essay is, in part, an homage to Annie Dillard’s “Living like Weasels” A deer is wild. Who knows what he thinks? He sleeps in a bed of leaves or patted down grasses that he leaves so warm you can feel it with your hand and guess how recently he was there. He
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An essay from a 2018 writing workshop, all the way back when I was a student at Ohio State These shoes are bright red. Or salmon. Or fire-orange. Whichever color you see, they’ve got a carbon-fiber plate between the sock-like upper and the sole made of foam originally used in military aircraft, with the unmistakable
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