essay

Mary Ellen Chiles

I walked with a friend in the North Cascades in Washington, and I tugged on his arm. “Don’t you see the way the light looks like someone dunked that mountain into an aquarium?” I said. “Don’t you see we’re lucky?” But I feel that way when I notice twigs on the sidewalk or sunlight on a doorknob. So I took photos and I wrote a little bit about people I met. I worked and traveled, and I didn’t try very hard to publish or sell what I did. Then I hit my head on an icy hill in Washington, and I decided I better start trying.