Wolverine Canyon

Near to her home were a few wild wooded places, where she loved to take her little family. There she was healed by Mother Earth. One of these places was Wolverine Canyon, whose yawning cliffs seemed another world apart from the flat sagebrush steppes and farmland all around.

Here the pulse of the earth was strong, though it bore the scars of civilization. Willow thickets followed the creek, then chokecherry, red osier dogwood, alders, and elder lined the unpaved road which wound higher and higher through the canyon walls. Douglas fir clung to the mountain sides like the spires of a temple, and bare rock formations witnessed the power of the Creator, who spake and the world was.

Magic and mystery were in watching the sun set early over the rim of the highest peak, and then seeing it ascend along the eastern ridge the next morning, long after sunrise.

Cool canyon breezes mingled with the hot summer air, bringing the very breath of life. Oh, how she longed to climb to the very top and share the vantage point of the birds of prey who soared high above the canyon floor.