On Dog Mountain

Hi from Portland, friends. Yesterday morning was all dark and gloomy, but still, Tricia, Lisa and I met at the base of Dog Mountain and hiked straight up into the spooky billows of fog. We passed through dark, quiet woods that may have been haunted. We plodded up windy scree meadows that fell steeply away into thin air. We sweated. We wheezed. The trail was very steep. Rain commingled with perspiration to soak our jeans and shirts entirely. And the wind blew fiercely then, sending icy shivers to our very core. But! The view! As we neared the top, the clouds split open and we found ourselves staring straight into the vacuum of space—dark purple faraway mountains cut by silver river waters, the promise of a golden sunset off to the west. These are the kinda gifts you get from nature sometimes, ya know?