writing
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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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A previously unpublished essay about how I found running – it feels a bit dated reading over it again now, so I figured I’d might as well publish it here. I think that people assume that I like running because it doesn’t hurt when I do it. They’re wrong – it almost always hurts. Sometimes
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An essay that won the Glenna Luschei Prairie Schooner Award and was published in Vol. 93, No. 2 of the same magazine After Elissa Washuta Every morning, I use my grandmother’s coffee pot. Wait, no, that doesn’t sound quite right. Let’s start this again. I still own my grandmother’s coffee pot, a stainless-steel 12-cup electric
Cam rentsch 