After leaving the Coal Lake cabin to its mouse colony, we rode through bogs, in cold rain, to Friday Creek. We saw little wildlife, but this beaver lodge intrigued us. Beyond Coal Lake, we could see splendid snow-covered peaks. Between torrents, we admired the wildflowers. These resemble what I’ve heard called “Johnny jump ups” or “shooting stars.” And these look
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The simple lives of heroes, The twisted lives of saints, They just confuse the sunny calendar With their red and golden paints… From “Priests,” by Leonard Cohen When Father Damien Modeste arrives at the Ojibwe reservation at Little No Horse, North Dakota in 1912, he has a complicated secret. His name isn’t Damien Modeste. He isn’t an ordained priest. He
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