Sarah Gilman
Website
I studied studio art and biology in college and wasn't quite satisfied with either. The art world looked hermetic, sealed off in cities away from the landscapes that I loved. And the science world felt binding, too, with its sprint to publish clunky treatises for an audience of other scientists. Writing, though, stole the best from both fields -- the creativity, the exploring, the analysis and the always-and-forever-learning -- and, at its best, seemed like it could bring the same important topics explored by art and science to a much broader audience of people. So here I am, still at it. I write about the environment, energy, science and miscellany from Portland, Oregon. I'm also a current contributing editor and former staff editor for High Country News, an environmental magazine about the American West. You can find more of my writing at sarahmgilman.com. I tweet @Sarah_Gilman.

And yet still grow

The smoke startedwhile I was in the air.I first saw it,after my plane landed,as a video on my phone—a gold and gray billowjust two miles into the mountainsfrom the green propertywhere we lived.“Oh good, you’re home.You can help protect the housefrom the new wildfire,”my landlord texted, joking,but only half.

Grace

The anniversary week of George Floyd’s murder is a good time to revisit this post, which first appeared June 10, 2020. We still have so far to go, in the United States.

Spring rain

First snowmelt, and a month of dry, but the rain finally comes, and everything is flowers, for a time.

Puddleglyphs

Sometimesin the springout walkingI get the feelthat the earth itself is speaking,that it has its own language,written in ice

Landscape painting

This post originally appeared in May of 2020. A few days ago, I was walking idly along a mountainside near my house when I noticed the lower branches of a ponderosa pine, heavy with bullet-sized pollen cones. Intrigued by their purplish color, I plucked one, piercing it with my thumbnail. The juice came out magenta […]

Knot Person

This post originally appeared on October 5, 2020. It felt especially prescient as this clusterfuck of a year ends. May we all untangle the knots of ourselves and find ways to rise into a new and better 2021.