Today is the last day of August.  There is a freeze warning tonight, and all my potted tomato plants have found (hopefully temporary?) homes in our living room.  The Jackson Hole summer is fleeting, and, as always, I wonder where the long, warm summer days have gone.
I've realized this year that it doesn't matter how much or how little I take on in a given summer - the time still flies by just as quickly, and the bite of fall in the air still shows up in late August. 
But all that only makes those fleeting summer days a bit better, reminding me to never take anything for granted, to never forget that this day is amazing. I try to live life to the fullest, every day.
I recently volunteered to manage a benefit for the family of an amazing Jackson Hole woman who passed away tragically in a car accident several weeks ago, leaving behind her husband and 3-month old daughter.  To be honest, I'm not even completely sure of my motivation; it was almost as if my brain didn't have a say, and my heart simply made a decision to do the only thing that I really felt I could actually do to help.
I didn't know Kristen Karn.  I knew of her business, a dog-sitting company that was highly recommended by just about every animal lover in our valley. I know that when I heard what had happened, I cried.  I cried because it's not fair.  It's not fair for bad things to happen to good people.  It's not fair that one of the many people who fought to make a life in this valley and STAY here, to raise a family here, and to make a living here, should be dealt such a deadly hand.  And it's not fair that all the people who loved her now have to mourn.  And more than anything, it's not fair that her husband has to go on without her; that her daughter has to grow up never knowing her mother; that our community has to continue to grow without such a vibrant participant.
But we know that life isn't fair.  I don't need to preach that here.  I just need to ask for everyone to remember why Jackson Hole is so amazing, and why we all have chosen to make this our home, to make our lives here.
So I signed up to work around the clock to create a (hopefully) magical day next month not for our community to mourn, but for us to remember.  We need to remember one of us who is gone but never forgotten; to remember why we call this place home; and most of all, to remember that nothing is worth more than this day.
Please.  Tell the ones you love that you love them.  Hug your dog.  Get into the mountains.  Smile into the sunshine.  LIVE VIBRANTLY.

Sweet Zaagi will be 11 in October of this year.  I know that she is an old dog because she sleeps through the sound of me taking the top off the jar of puppy biscuits; because she no longer swims in swift current; because she slips every day on the hardwood floor; because no longer climbs the stairs to sleep at the foot of our bed.

Last night, I asked her to please lie down on the living room floor so I could give her the summer haircut that she so deserved.  She’s patient and wonderful, easy to groom and happy to accept the attention.  She knows that she will feel better when I’m done, and I love the time I get to spend with her.  She’s one of the dearest loves of my life.

Zaagi came into my life just before I turned 19, a charismatic puppy who chased her older buddy around the yard, grabbing at the grown dog’s tail with all her puppy energy, frequently going for short flights as the end result of her efforts.  She was just what I needed, and when she chose me over all other people, I had only an inkling of what an honor this was.

In the years since then she has been my companion in all things, my partner in life, and a best friend of a quality that I never could have known existed without the experience itself.  She has swum wild rivers, hiked steep mountain trails, and somersaulted down snowy slopes.  At my side through all my hair-brained adventures, she always makes me smile.

So tonight, coat freshly chopped and still looking a little silly, she hopped down off the back porch into the lingering summer evening and somersaulted onto the grass.  She groveled on her back in sheer joy, looking like a big puppy, and then catapulted to her feet in the beginning of a gleeful old-dog zoom around the yard.

After one full loop she returned to me and Zonker, our younger dog who relentlessly torments her every day.  She is always patient with him, but usually remains calm and collected, far too dignified to deign to stoop to his level.

Tonight, she bowed toward him, tail wagging and inviting play.  She bounced like a puppy, playing off is youthful antics and luring him into a game of tag.  Eleven years dropped away and her sheer spirit dodged with him through the trees and in huge arcing circles in front of our deck.  Tonight I had the privilege to watch one of my favorite beings celebrate the joy of her life.  As always, she makes me smile.

  Now, as I write, Zaagi sleeps soundly at my feet, her snores resounding through the room like a small freight train.  She warms my feet and helps me remember that we must always celebrate the small things in life that bring us great joy.

It's been a crazy couple of weeks for me.  I'm honored to have contracted with the Murie Center in Grand Teton National Park this spring, and I've spent the past couple of weeks working with them on last minute planning for a board dinner for Trout Unlimited and the amazing Murie Moose Festival.  On top of that both my parents and my husband's family have been in town visiting and we're finally having weather that makes me itch to get into the mountains.  (By the way, the biggest thanks imaginable to my folks and my incredible husband Chaz for being the best volunteers that anyone could ever hope for last Saturday!)
But that's summer in the valley.  After all the summers that I have spent working long, long days with little time to myself, I was overwhelmed by how incredibly thankful I was to be able to do what makes me so happy, on my own terms.  The Murie Center is a dream client for me - embracing all that I feel is important and right in the world, while giving me the chance to do what I do best in the most beautiful setting imaginable. 
As I moved tables, folded linens, polished glassware, lit candles and spent close to 16 hours on my feet in the heat of the mountain sun, all I could do was smile.  From the Historic Murie Ranch, the Grand Teton reaches for the sky, just visible through the trees and over the old homestead building.  The ranch still embodies the spirit of an earlier time, when the Murie's lived humbly and worked towards an end where conservation efforts would be respected and understood for the basic necessity to all  life that they are. 
I never met Mardy Murie, who died at the age of 101 in 2003, two years after I moved to the valley.  But I do remember going to the Hootenanny and asking a stranger "who is that amazing woman sitting up front?".  It was Mardy, eyes closed and feet tapping in time to the music, an inspiring sight for me then, even without knowing her history.  I am honored to work in her presence, which is so apparent at the Ranch; to help create experiences for locals and visitors alike that will stay with them, reminding them of how important it is to have such beautiful places in the world.
And I am honored to have shared this with my family, who have been the most solid support over the years, even in the hardest of times.  The women in my family inspire me, keeping me going when it all seems like an uphill battle.
Just a few days after my parents said goodbye to me and my husband and drove away over Togwotee Pass, headed home to northern Minnesota, my mother called to tell me that her mother had died.  She was 87 years old and the news was not a surprise, but still I cried.  I had just visited her in early May, not even two months ago, and had been struck by the dignity and grace with which she was reaching the end of her life.  My grandmother never visited me in Wyoming, even for my wedding, worrying that the travel and high elevation would not agree with her.  She chose not to come not because she was concerned for herself, but because she did not want to burden me or create anything other than happy memories for everyone else who had traveled so far to celebrate with us. 
So now as I mourn this amazing woman, and I soak in the mountain sunshine on the beautiful late June afternoon, I know that I am the luckiest person alive.  I have been touched by greatness in so many ways, and look forward to a future where I can share this with anyone who is willing.

It's been a tough spring for us here in the Hole.  With persistent rain, cool weather & very little taste of sunshine, it can be really hard to stay positive and remember that summer really will come - even if it will be brief.  The trails are muddy and the sky is gray.
So what's my point, you say?
I've been struggling myself keep focused on what it is that I love so much about this place.  But this is really the best time to reach out within the community and be reminded of what a great little town we have here.  This is the time of year when the summer season in just kicking off.  Despite the rain, there are any number of things going on to take your mind off the gloom. 
Today the Summit on the Snake educates outfitters, anglers & guides about Wild & Scenic designation for the upper Snake watershed.  Entrance fees to Grand Teton National Park are waived this weekend and Climb the King for the Jackson Hole Community Counseling Center kicks off at the base of Snow King Mountain.  
And we can't forget that the Jackson Hole Historical Society provides historic downtown walking tours every Tuesday & Thursday morning at 10:30, and (of course) the Jackson Hole Town Square Shootout takes place just off the town square at 6:00pm sharp, Monday-Saturday (no one dies on Sunday).
And so summer really is here, even if it doesn't quite feel like it yet.  Keep smiling, despite the gray days & get out there and enjoy Jackson Hole.  Live vibrantly & remember that there is always a reason to celebrate!

And I'm finally live!  This is so exciting, and so long in coming - I'm a bit overwhelmed.  And so my adventure in Vibrancy begins!  I am excited to see just where this little company goes in the future - I have my own ideas (that shall be divulged as I see fit, or as I become comfortable with them) but I do know that things like this tend to take on a life of their own.
As far as I see today, this is just the first step of me doing my part: working to celebrate what is wonderful about this place that we call home with anyone and everyone who's interested.
Welcome to liveVIBRANT!