If the Moon Would Still the Tides

When John took this photo of my favorite knoll at the ranch in Wyoming, eight years had already passed since I'd climbed to her barren top and peered down at the redtail hawk soaring beneath. Yet the stories I continue to tell about this land create an ongoing dialogue that pulses through everything new.

During the last half of 2021, I felt the need to listen more than tell. I shrugged off guilt as each monthly blog post went unwritten, and not just because new chapters of the novel on which I wa...