Temps were in the 40s and a wind was blowing cold. We layered up and set off as the trail wound down into a ravine before pushing uphill.
The first waterfall – St. Mary Waterfall – was small but mighty as it roared into a green-blue pool before rushing away.
Dan and I have been touring museums and monuments and historic sites as we work our way from Oregon to Wisconsin and back. I didn’t appreciate history in school, but I find it fascinating these days.
At Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse, we watched videos of how the sculptors (read: dynamite handlers) shaped the mountains of stone into presidents’ faces and an Indian chief on a horse. Mind boggling.
As I write this, Dan and I are winding uphill—between 8-9000′ in elevation—somewhere in eastern Wyoming, past tall cliffs interspersed with evergreen forests and into Big Horn County. We just passed a sign indicating: “Moose next 5 miles.” So naturally we’re watching for big horn sheep and moose.
Dan and I recently celebrated our wedding anniversary in one of the cabins at the historic Weasku Inn near the Rogue River. We can now say that we’ve been married for years.
(2 years … but still.)
“Do you want to go to dinner with some friends of mine?” Dan asked back when we were hiking and snowshoeing and building a friendship, back when we were ‘non-dating.’
My quarantine gave me time to reflect on how I arrived at this abundant place—belonging to this new husband, enjoying this lovely, peace-filled home, this graced season.
I arrived via woundedness.
What if you got exactly the wound you needed in order to become the person you have become, to fulfill the destiny you are called to create, that ‘sacred wound’ in which you were hurt in exactly the way life needed you to be? – Joie Foster
It would be so much easier, so much more comfortable, to set aside my goal of a published book and simply write blog posts and magazine articles. From the couch.
Honestly, I like our couch. It’s super comfortable. The view out the large picture windows is green and woodsy. There’s no stress or anxiety on this couch.
When we added on to our home, I had originally hoped for a covered front porch that would say, “Welcome … stay a while.” The contractor pointed out our low-hanging eaves and that our entry was already dark. “A covered porch would make it even darker,” he said.
So he and his crew got creative, and the result is an entry with pergola and pavers that give the impression of a front porch while still letting in the light.
The weather report called for intermittent rain over Memorial Day weekend. Of course. It’s Oregon.
But rain has never deterred this Johnson bunch. They’ve been camping together for the past fifty-some years (minus COVID 2020).
About a month before I met Dan, I came across a quote from Susan Statham:
Your life is a story. Write well. Edit often.
This quote gave me pause. How does the editing process work?
Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
