I like to think I’m a good housekeeper—or in my case, a cabin -keeper. I do the usual things to keep up with it. And honestly, in such a small place, it’s not too hard. But then I saw him (her?). Nestled on the second-to-bottom log in the bathroom, he had created a very sweet, neatly netted web. Yes. A spider. And for my arachnid-phobic family members: you’ve been warned. When I leaned down to admire his craftsmanship, he instantly scuttled to the far side of the log—clearly

I stared at the pin on the map. This was the location of my son —hiking solo in the mountains of Chile. Thanks to technology, we’d been able to FaceTime twice during this odyssey. This was a journey to a place he’d never been, but had always wanted to see. With mountaineering training, and his high school-level Spanish, he met locals and explored thoroughly. He traversed miles by bus, ferry, and catamaran, through regions of Argentina and Chile. Hiking nearly eighty-five mile

There’s something showing up in Seattle right now. It’s happening around our beloved Seahawks. I may not be the most devoted football fan, but I married into a football-loving family.  My husband was once the captain of his high school team, then he went on to play college ball. I fell in love with that young man—with his keen sense of strategy and determination to win—traits that were most likely shaped during his football years. What I observe now, decades later, is how the

I sat in the gymnasium with a couple hundred other community members as we surrounded the family of Bill Richardson. Most likely you wouldn’t know Bill outside of our area— but in his 92 years, his life intersected with thousands of others. We listened to stories about Bill, the dedicated teacher who would give all the time it took for students to grasp new lessons. He routinely took his classes outside to teach survival skills— finding food and shelter—long before outdoor ed