For years, writing was a private practice, a way to notice the world more deeply and make sense of what I found. I’m drawn to the details, the patterns, the quiet stories unfolding around us—especially the ways we, as humans, fit into it all.
I’ve always written—but more recently, I felt called to share.
Why Field Notes?
If something here resonates, I’m glad you found your way.
For years, writing was a private practice, a way to notice the world more deeply and make sense of what I found. I’m drawn to the details, the patterns, the quiet stories unfolding around us—especially the ways we, as humans, fit into it all.
I’ve always written—but more recently, I felt called to share.
Why Field Notes?
If something here resonates, I’m glad you found your way.
FEATURED FIELD NOTE
{#26} Things That Never Go Away
There’s a spot along the canyon trail where the river shoulders into a hard left bend—calm on the inside, turbulent on the outside, like it’s trying to make up for lost time. That outer bank takes a beating. Years ago—probably sometime between the Great Depression and...
{#26} Things That Never Go Away
There’s a spot along the canyon trail where the river shoulders into a hard left bend—calm on the inside, turbulent on the outside, like it’s trying to make up for lost time. That outer bank takes a beating. Years ago—probably sometime between the Great Depression and Elvis—the fix was simple: stuff a few junked cars into the bank and call it erosion control.
And it worked. Sort of.
Today, you can still spot the tailfins of old Chevys and Packards poking out of the dirt like fossils of the American ego. Rusted, half-buried, but unmistakable. A reminder that nothing ever really disappears. We don’t throw things away—we just toss them somewhere else. And eventually, they show back up.
Nature doesn’t forget. Neither does the body. Or the soul.
Recent Field Notes
{#25} Life in the Slow Lane - Last weekend, I drove cattle from winter pasture to summer grazing lands. We could’ve trucked them, but the five-mile ride offered lessons that don’t come any other way. The mother… 
{#24} Where Spring Finds Us - Last week, as I walked through the Boston Public Garden, I was struck by a familiar but still startling realization: spring is a traveler, but she doesn’t move quite how… 
{#23} What Negative Space Reveals - There’s a flowering crabapple outside my window that tells me something I can’t see—when the wind is up. No sound, just motion: spring petals and leaves shimmering all at once,… 
{#22} When the Trail Narrows - I passed them one by one as I left home that morning. Dodging people in every form—on bikes, skateboards, pushing strollers—each of us negotiating the tight spaces of the Provo… 
{#21} The Quiet Thunder of Awe - There are moments—quiet, sudden, unbidden—when the world opens. A canyon flickers in the last light of day. Snow hushes everything. A spring flower opens before your eyes. Blossoms, not there… 
{#20} Measuring My Shadow - Shortly after the massive explosion of industrial growth following World War II, the German philosopher Martin Heidegger warned that modern life was beginning to treat the earth only in terms… About Field Notes
I notice things. And writing about them has always been my passion project. Now painting them has helped me see the world in new and exciting ways.
I hope whatever you see here might serve you in some small way—to gain deeper insight, to think about the world differently, and to connect more profoundly with others. You will find published pieces interspersed with my own regular observations. Enjoy!
Book—The Meadowlark
Overview
In 1885, southeastern Idaho was the last part of the country to open for homesteading. Young Cassie Rapp arrives with her family to farm a country overrun by sagebrush and lacking water. With others they meet, they harness the mighty Snake River and turn 100,000 acres of barren earth into the rich farm community it is today.
Meanwhile, modern-day character Emma Rose, a notable speaker and business consultant, is trying to make sense of her recently deceased father’s request to be buried in a small Idaho town. Her journey of discovery begins from there.
News, Coverage, and Updates
Podcast: Interview on “Start Writing #134” (YouTube or all platforms)
Audible audio version now available here.
Read coverage in East Idaho Business Journal – “East Idaho Native captures the feeling of hometown Rigby”
Fine Art
No one is born an artist, or at least that’s what I tell myself. I actually know a few natural-born artists who, of course, have honed their craft and created masterpieces. My self-taught, hack approach has produced nothing but delight (for me!) as I have learned to capture what I see rather than what I know—that pine trees aren’t always green and light does curious things to the eves of a building and elements off in the distance.
Heaven & Earth (16×20, floater frame, $1,250)
Additional Art
Righteous Dominion (16×20, sold)
Toward Little Valley (16×16, $750)
