“Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living.” — Mary “Mother” Harris Jones Hello friends, It’s a rainy day in Portland, Oregon. Outside my window, cars shush by on slick dark streets. Autumn leaves catch the moisture from the sky as fluffy squirrels dart about, preparing for the coming cold. Last night, we made dinner, setting out a plate for the ancestors. We lit up a giant Jack O’Lantern on the porch, to beckon any spirits wandering by, ready to appease them with treats, should...

Hello friends, On a walk in the soft rain of the atmospheric river that just arrived to the Pacific Northwest, I saw two small maple trees whose leaves had already turned orange-red. Some of the maples in the neighborhood are still green, or just turning yellow, but these two were in full autumnal celebration mode. So, of course I walked across the street to get a closer look. When I looked up, I was delighted at the display. The leaves looked like ethereal dancers, turning this way and that,...

Hello friends, I’m in the woods right now, with a group of friends, both old and new. There are deer here, small, gentle ones with large ears. The deer keep their distance, but not so far that I cannot read the glint in their eyes, or catch the curious fan of those ears. These deer are not tame. They just live in a world where the potential for harm is slim. For deer to live so unafraid means this is a sheltered place. A place they have learned to be slightly wary of the lumbering, two legged...