One Sentence Journal Background: This the beginning of my tribute to a dedicated writing “practice” which brings me joy. It’s inspired by One-Sentence Journal: Short Poems and Essays from the World at Large (2018, Riverfeet Press) by Métis Storyteller & Poet Laureate of Montana, Chris La Tray. I started the day inspiration landed during a hike. May we all learn to listen to and heed our creative callings in their myriad forms.
11.30.25 On the baking aisle of Watson’s in Eureka as I load my cart with 8-28 oz cans of 50% off pumpkin puree, an aproned grey haired woman with tired, but smiling eyes walks towards me and says, Thank you for shopping with us today, M’am. It keeps us employed. Seriously.
11.29.25 I awake from a dream in which I am reciting Foo Fighters lyrics to my husband and college friends while also deftly leveraging spoons as though they are drumsticks, and there is some sort of confession on the tip of my tongue about the need to dance.
11.28.25 Snow covered firs glow under the half full moon and as we crunch walk our way back to the house and M pauses and turns to me grinning, Can you believe we live here?
11.27.25 M is squeezing a large orange in a small bright green lime press and the rogue juice streams out hitting my arm as I laugh and take in the scent of nutmeg, whole cloves, mustard, and butter simmering on the rangetop.
11.26.25 M & I secured the snow plow to the buggy, arms pumping in success gestures, while our beloved 4-legged supervised from inside the buggy bench seat.
11.25.25 We walked the recently named (we gave it) “Johnson’s loop” today for the 1st time since snowfall, relishing Lary’s friskiness and his powder coated face, back, wiggly girth.
11.24.25 With headlamps on and in 4-inches of fresh powder under the sliver of moon over the course of 2-hours we spread out 10 pounds of native bunch grass seed mix to get ready for the spring.
11.23.25 On the way down to the shed, I heard and then saw the little hairy woodpecker again softly going to work on the log deck.
11.22.25 It was a much needed hike on North Fork Deep Creek, overcast skies with a little mud underfoot, the snowline above us in the distance, we paused to admire trailside glowing red rose hips and also a fun rock that nature painted.
11.21.25 My dad’s best friend, a small business owner in Mobile, Alabama, who deals in diesel engine test calibration, told me on the phone when we shift from personal life to work topics, We’ve been Trumped; the tariffs not good for us; something needs to change.
11.20.25 As we assemble the white pine nightstand, I am distracted by the soft white and brown curls of M’s beard next to his prominent Adam’s apple because I am struck by an urge to draw this in detail.
sheteststhewater 