Author: Sara Wright

Today is one of my last days living in the house I grew up in in Boulder. It’s a long story how I came to reside here, or a short one, depending whether there’s tea. Either way, as I walk along the foothills this morning with...

I am grateful I am alive. I wash open in the tide in the morning light. So much sorrow and anxiety careened last night through my blood stream. But this body, this vessel, can digest anything. My carburetor purrs. What’s shifted...

I tested this morning for cucumber flower essence for depression, took some. It’s been like someone opened a shutter in the basement. Light streams in. I feel so positive. I realize I may have been depressed for a few months, if...

Last night my neighbor Linda Smith stood in her blond softness in the twilight. Her husband, Randy, hovered nearby. Christopher held our panting Pit Bull, Captain, at the end of a bright red leash. Its color fading like the rest...

My daughter Hannah and I hadn’t been to a vet since we had to put our 11-year-old white-and-tan basset hound/Jack Russell terrier Kipper to sleep on Nov. 8. This morning, we left our new toffee-colored pit bull Captain all day...