The older affiliation is with the territory where I was born and raised. I have never really left it. All the years and trips going back to Elko, to my parent's small ranch on Thorpe Creek, their summer camp at Talbot Creek, both places at the base of the Ruby Mountains; and now Tuscarora and the stark beauty of the Independence Range. This is the place of my deepest sensory imprinting--the scent of sage, the surprisingly gaudy Nevada sunrises and sunsets, the sound and sting of winter wind; the feel of leather, a horse's sweaty hide, the weight of a horse's hoof in my hand; the taste of an alfalfa pellet, the nectar of Indian paintbrush, the sour, fruity taste of a wild rose hip; the bitter taste of a chokecherry before it is sweetened into jelly.
The Mendocino Coast reminds me of the birth of my children, the clearest connection with nature a woman can know; that is, until we experience dying. Here on the coast my senses are attuned to rain, fog, the deep whoosh of wind in the redwood trees; and the omnipotence of the Pacific ocean.
There is the solace of eternity in both places.
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