It’s all the same, only the names will change. . .* Under towering cumulus congestus a game of cat and mouse, horse and (want to be) rider, catch me if…
Category: Place
iFrames are not supported on this page. Explore the map above or click here to go to the ArcGIS Online hosted version. In December of 2010, I launched jaredspaulding.com. Memories…
The sun spills into the small dining/sitting area as it rises above the distant mesa. The sky is void of clouds and blends seamlessly from grays to periwinkles and salmons…
My neighbors got a “new” truck last summer. The white, extended cab, Ram 2500 with an eight foot bed sits and idles its diesel engine on the street; there is…
Years of outdoor education have helped build a habit of referencing things by cardinal directions and their ordinal “in-betweens”. “Use the entrance on the south door” I might say to…
Thick, pungent smoke billowed from between the two pieces of wood. First, wispy and upward in strung out curls, then heavy, grey, and everywhere. The lungs, laboring from the arms’…
Devil’s Slide rises almost 800 feet above my boyhood hamlet of Stark. As a child the deciduous forest that stretched northward across the railroad tracks from our house felt immense.…
The pandemic reinforced my love of tea and tacos. Here is the beginning and the end to 2021’s daily grind: ~ the pot: with Andy home it is a two…
I have no tattoos. That story is one of lazy summer days, friendship, and happenstance. But it is not for here. Here is where I tell you what tattoos the…
“Well, I’m not sure if this is helpful” I yelled, with barely competing decibels. . . “but this is probably one of the top five worst nights I have ever…
Editor’s Note: The author lives and writes from the current and ancestral lands of the Eastern Shoshone, Northern Arapaho, Apsaalooké, and Cheyenne. His direct ancestors landed at Plymouth Rock in…
September 2017–I knew it was there somewhere. Deep in my second floor storage closet in the Noble Hotel was a rectangular, blue, Tupperware bin of tools. There was an…
“Do you think the Creek has changed?” Matt asks, from his perch on a pointy boulder. Above him cracks of all sizes soar upward from the black, varnished stone into…