I can’t imagine living in Colorado and not hiking. The Rocky Mountains rise from the plains like a command: “Pay attention!” Sometimes the imperative of living get’s lost in the minutiae of life’s demands. That’s when my inner voice shouts, “Forget deadlines! I need mountains!” I don’t dare ignore that voice. That Cara - she can be kind of pushy.

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“Sing, Jandaia!” Every time I speak the name of this sand-drenched place, I’m giving a command to its parakeets. The name of this state in Northeastern Brazil is Ceará, which means, “Sing, bird!” The native bird of Ceará is the Jandaia, a parakeet whose shrill call sounds much like its own name: Jan-dah-ya. The little bird’s yellow, red, green and blue feathers mimic the sun, as it sets over endless desert sands leading to beautiful sandy beaches.

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I was an only child until I was 33, and when my sister was born I couldn’t wait until we could do stuff together. I pictured us playing, camping and hiking: two adventurous, muddy, scabby-kneed girls. After her recent visit, I’ve accepted reality: my almost-13-year-old sister is an indoor girl. Not that she’s always inside, but she excels at lounging. Whenever the outdoors requires effort, boldness or curiosity, she’s just not that into it. Yet we’ve discovered that an outdoor girl and an indoor girl can enjoy 10 days together without wanting to kill each other - much. (more…)

This is a place where the earth splits open and two worlds collide, where hardship traces a path to harmony. The red and sepia walls of this vast crack in the Arizona desert plummet so suddenly that surely a few pioneers must have been walking along one second and stepped off a cliff the next. Canyon de Chelly (pronounced de-Shay, from the Navajo Tséyi’) is home to both the vanished Native Americans known as Anasazi and the modern Navajo people who call themselves Diné. (more…)