Category Cheyenne

Autumn

I watch the fast-changing light, play with the pigments on my pallete, mixing a little more ivory with the yellow, trying to get the tint just right to record this moment

Glow

Charcoal clouds hover, too high to drop their load just yet, but they darken and grow heavier with every step I take. Soon. The clouds barely move, and the air here, on the ground, is still. There’s something about the light on an overcast day. Every leaf, twig and flower is vibrant with texture and […]

Hush

Murgatroid the Cat and I slip from the bed, careful not to wake Cheyenne. It is dark, still, and even the birds are silent, though dawn can’t be long in coming. Murg pads silently through the open door to the screened porch. I follow, wrapping my sweatshirt-soft kimono tightly to keep in the bed-warmth. The […]

Xianne

“I remember the day you were born,” I tell Xianne. “Your mama was sipping broth in the morning when Ruby and I, baskets full of raspberries and herbs, came by to wait with the women for you to pop out.” We’ve walked the twelve miles to Central Village—Ruby, Cheyenne and I. Several other friends from […]

Balboa

How is it women of the village know to come? But they do, one by one, to sit with Balboa, with our memories of her childhood, moments of laughter and tears. We breathe. We are present, witness to her grief, sharing her sorrow.

Mira

Packer cut the log in half lengthwise and hollowed out the pith, then lined it with beautiful green and gray mosses. He must have climbed very high in the trees to get so much clean, new moss.

Dance

Dusk is settling to dark on this cool September eve, and the first star hangs low and bright in the sky, twinkling with the cheery strands we’ve stretched high above the perimeter of the dance floor.

Moon

We are miles from the Village–Janine, Sena, Cheyenne, Ruby, Merilee, Betty, and I–on our first campout of the season. Minimalists, we sleep on bare ground, our bags zippered close for warmth, thick trampled grasses beneath for cushion.

Sena

Sena’s shoulders are high and rigid. She runs a hand through her nappy hair for the umpteenth time and clenches and unclenches her jaw, but her eyes sparkle and her voice is full of mirth.

Amends

Everyone’s dreams can take wing if they get a little lift, Kami said.