Author: Michael Stevens

The Painted Hills unit of Fossil Beds National Monument seems to be an anomaly in an otherwise grey/black terrain. Dark basalt flows give way to bright horizontal bands of alternating red and ochre clays...

This morning, three volcanic mountain peaks are adorned with white shrouds of winter snow tinged pink with the fire of alpenglow. They are clustered together like alpine siblings floating upon a cushion of low...

People say there are no atheists in foxholes. A lot of people think this is a good argument against atheism. Personally, I think it’s a much better argument against foxholes.  Kurt Vonnegut The ego...

I once had a dream in which I descended a steep trail to the deepest part of a canyon. The atmosphere was eerie—a kind of deadness where no sound could penetrate. I climbed around...

Winter arrived late this year. As Spring attempts her debut, snow squalls intermittently cover the ground in a frosty white. Yet, a few hardy plants do not care much about what is going on...

I stand on a narrow basalt saddle far above an unnamed moraine lake overshadowed by the craggy slopes of Broken Top. My view toward the Three Sisters volcanoes is totally unobstructed. Vast space swallows...

The scar on my knee is speaking to me today. It tells the story of a joyful day quickly turned horrific through the inattention of a bicyclist. The impact threw me to the pavement,...

The Dry River snakes its way through Central Oregon for miles but very few humans visit much of its length. A small part of the river canyon is popular but most of the meandering...

Several times a year I am invited to teach the Buddhist point of view at local high schools when they offer courses on world religions. I count this as a privilege. Since I am...

I wonder if it felt pain like I feel pain. This dismembered, mostly consumed bird hidden in the sage and rabbitbrush must have met its demise in the claws and jaws of a large...