Death has been on my mind lately. This land is full of it, marked, unmarked. Animals, humans, plants. A land that once thrived – or as...

I followed a bear this morning, along a lush desert trail, past prickly pear in bloom, down a gravel wash with over-reaching roots, into...

In the morning, trying to catch the springs in solitude, I am the only one on this rocky, caliche road and as such can move freely –...

El Capitan, Guadalupe Mountains National Park Which do you like better, I was asked the other day,   riding or writing? Riding, I replied...

Weather in Big Bend is a work of art. The light-play on velvet, mountains stretched across a powder blue sky, only a thin rake of clouds...

This isn’t a story about finding yourself, there are enough of those already. I am the woman I always was; she is simply untethered now....

We make our way over to High Gates Road, cutting across this valley of tumbleweed and cactus, of open grasslands under a cobalt sky, and...

I sent photos of mountains with their little white caps, of rolling fields of gold, of sun-warmed foothills and glowing waves. Then I...

Between Cedar and Oak Tree Canyon a heifer shuffles off, her molasses licking disrupted by our approach. Her body a rug of black, her...

When I was a girl, my favorite color was tulle. The blush of a tutu. The satin of a pointe shoe. I believed. When I was a young woman, my...

If you drive to the far west tip of Texas, if you brave Interstate 10 and unending desert highways, you will be rewarded with views of...

Black Gap WMA, TX I set out to erase a memory last weekend - it’s not the first time – repeating a trip taken before, rinsing to remove...

As the horse pushes forward, I close my eyes, hips moving in syncopated rhythm with his. I reach out, caressing the wind, and slide...

From Horsehead Crossing on the Pecos River, the Comanche Trail runs south to Fort Stockton / Comanche Springs and there, if you veer...

Sometimes you must ride through the bones of the past to see the pure sparkling brilliance of the future. It seems such a simple thing,...

What makes a cowgirl? The hat? The boots? The horse pushing and spinning until the herd has settled and all are found? No. Cowgirl is a...

If you travel enough eventually the names of places, natural and unnatural, begin to repeat – forming some kind of staccato rhythm as you...

I don’t count miles when I ride, it’s not about them anyway. Often, I turn or cut back before trail end. Before climbing the summit – but...

Five feet above the rusty ground, swaying with each step of the horse like the rolling tides of the ocean that seems so very far away in...