Placing ourselves beside a river
182
When John Maclean writes of the Blackfoot River, he invokes swirling foam, shallow rapids and bottomless holes below rock reefs. He conjures a powerful sense of place, one richly etched
Lord willing and the creek don’t rise: How we show up for each other in community on the range
636
I shared my nervousness with our new general manager and he replied, “You know, we have to allow each other the space to make mistakes.” Right then I knew I
Birds Got no Beef with Burger
318
Opening the pickup door and stepping out onto native grass, the sun begins to rise amidst the sound of the dawn chorus. I listen to the melodic tinkling of a