 | | 2016-04-12 15:55
From blog Amy Nelson
Banff, Alberta, Canada
When I rise in the mountains, I turn from wallflower to wildflower, from opaque cloud to sunbeam shower, from a jar of jam that's almost gone to the sound of a strawberry jam lid when it's opened. I become less empty, more enhanced. Less cotton, more skin. Less I wish, more I am. It is here where I rise like a mountain myself until only the wind and pine groves remain. How brave, how heavenly, as the pin-shaped leaves blow across Lake Minnewanka. I could have stayed in town and listened to the footsteps, instead I rolled to where the sun brews the most forgiving air. Nobody else was around at first, just my mum and I. We stood at the jagged edge...
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