Berries. More berries.

2013 was the year of the berries. Not just one or two kinds of berries but ALL kinds of berries. There were plentiful and huge salmon berries, blueberries, blackberries, cranberries, high bush cranberries, rosehips, etc. If it was a berry and it was growing in Unalakleet, it was flourishing.

Lookit the size of them!

One of my very favorite things to do is pick berries. Being outside, smelling that intoxicating tundra smell, is better for my heart than any amount of hours with a therapist. The profound not silence fills my ears until my thoughts are drowned out and quieted. It's incredibly cathartic for me.

Most everyone that I encounter is surprised that I pick berries alone. They're even more surprised when they realize that I enjoy it and actually prefer it. :) I'm comfortable in the country. I feel at home there.

Some of these little loves were made into delicious cranberry sauce

Dreams

I lay, struggling to move
held down by my nightmares
I saw my face, haunting
skin icy-blue-transparent
sunken hollow eyes
    screaming piteously
the stench of cold fear
unbearable weight smothering my heart
thrashing arms, twisting legs
let me up...
I lay next to myself
staring into dead eyes
help me... help me... help me
My ghastly reflection rises
glances over her shoulder
She walks away

Once upon a time...

I had a creative writing teacher named Steven Meyers. I loved those classes. Their structure, the creativity, how we shared what we wrote. It felt like such a community. I would go back to Durango and enroll in Fort Lewis again to be in one of those classes. By the end of the semester I would know pieces of the people in the class. I felt kinship with my classmates and yet I didn't stay in touch with any of them. It's strange. And yet wonderful.

Anyways... my point is that I'm going to post some of the writing. The journal that I recently found is from one of the poetry classes that I took so that's what will be making appearances.