Last week I took a road trip with a friend to New Mexico, my growing up place. Along the way we stopped to watch the salmon in the Columbia River Gorge, making their way up Eagle Creek. The river was filled with dead and dying fish. The stench of death was in the air. It was a morbid scene. By way of explanation, since my friend was new to salmon-watching, I began to talk about the important role that salmon play in providing nutrients to the mountainous forests of the Pacific Northwest. Salmon leave their birth streams when they are small fry, and when they return they bring with them many more pounds of rich ocean nutrients. Leaving the ocean, they cease to eat, and instead make their incredible journeys home while they are literally decomposing. When they reach their birth streams, they spawn and lay the eggs that will become the next generation of salmon. The image of the salmon stayed with me as I reached New Mexico. A day after my arrival, I encountered a terrible car wreck. As one of the first persons on the scene I ended up getting into one of the wrecked cars to hold the hands of two people who had been hurt: an 82-year old man and his wife. He was crushed by his crumpled car door, barely alive, and died on the scene. She was badly injured and in extreme shock. My co-worker who was with me, said, "They are everyone's grandmother and grandfather." And so they were. A few years ago I wrote the following poem about salmon; it speaks to the journeys we are all on, and to what we owe to generations that come before us. I dedicate it to the couple I met in tragedy, and to all the grandparents of our lives. May we be worthy of their care, may we have the fortitude to continue the great journeys of life.

Blessings,

Ariana
Spreading Roots, Spring Forth

PS.
Click here to read a copy of Ariana's poem For information on current efforts to protect the Northwest's endangered salmon populations, visit the Save Our Wild Salmon Coalition's website