Being in nature is something I hold sacred.
This land has stories to tell, whispering as I walk through.
Here long before me, and here long after me.
I feel a sense of peace and calm wash over me as I walk into the park, Burke Mountain towering above, watching over this space.
As I walk these paths, plants reveal themselves around me, showing me their beauty, wanting me to listen and learn from their wisdom.
I watch bears pass through, protectors of this land. 
I see all the little things,
…yet I take in the bigger picture, like the eagle flying overhead.
I see the little details in the moss and ferns unfurling.
As I climb to the High Knoll I feel on top of the world. There is a deep sense of inner peace that takes over me. I sit in silence and feel the wind through my hair. Even though I’ve been here many times, I still have that sense of awe every time I step up onto the rocky top.
I feel this place in my DNA, like this land has birthed me. That I am it and it is I. It is beautiful.
I feel alive as I walk through the forest; the cedars, the hemlocks, the firs. Every time I am here, I see and notice something different; each season, each year that passes. Breathtaking. The kinship with this land flows through my veins.
I come here to connect; to myself and to something bigger than me. I come here to feel connected to it all.
I come here when I need to be comforted; when I feel sad or frustrated, happy or excited. This place can hold space for me. This place sees me.
I was filled with sadness when I saw this place on fire in 2022. I watched it from the other side of the river. I felt it to my core; a deep grief that this place would be lost.
The past year I made a commitment to say yes to things that spark joy and allow me to tap into my creativity.
This project weaves together three things I hold sacred: nature, photography and writing.
I am so grateful to have the opportunity to connect these together with this project and to be inspired by the many others in our group/community that are sharing their gifts too.








