The Trails on Chinook lands have long been a sacred meander upon which Spirit invites humans to dance with the more-than-human world. Even though a few years have passed since my last visit, I vividly remember certain places along the trail. There is the shadowy mound where vivid Chanterelle mushrooms push up through pine needle duff, each year, in their season. In my mind's eye, I can also see the mystical stand of bamboo cloistered in the wetlands. I recall the tree rooted below the Wetlands trail where I met a Barred Owl face to face, each watching the other with mindful intensity. I savor the places I count on for Blackberries and Salmonberries, and where deer often linger with watchful timidity.
But, for me, the thinnest and most-holy place along the ...
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