Welcome to the Life at 9,318’ blog, where I share reflections on parenting, mountain living, community, and the questions that matter most. Here you’ll find long-form essays, stories from small-town life, and thoughtful insights on family, camp, and growing up in the high country.
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Recent Reflections
Grace, Rain, & Pie
This was the first week with all three kids back in school—and the first week with Phen gone. It wasn’t an immediate adjustment. Monday, after dropping him off, I was wrecked. I cried ugly tears and let myself feel it all.
But here in my forties, I’ve learned to practice grace with myself. I took a walk. I called my mom. I sat in his room for a while. And then I pulled myself together enough to be present when the other two came home. That was my daily practice—falling apart a little, and then finding my way back.
Nine Months of Winter: What It Really Takes to Live Here
When people ask what it’s like to live in Silverton, I usually start with the obvious: winter lasts about nine months. Snow comes early and lingers long. Our kids ride bikes on the only paved road in town, but for most of the year those bikes lean in the shed, waiting for a stretch of bare ground.
At 9,318 feet, life is both beautiful and brutal. On a clear morning, the peaks glow pink, and it feels like we’re living inside a postcard. On a stormy one, we’re shoveling for the third time before breakfast, and I wonder if we’ve lost our minds.