When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

Mountains are better than people, I prefer talking to trees and nature eases my peace of mind. We are in a weird time right now where in order to come together, we have to stay apart. The #GetOutside hashtag is now replaced by the plea to #StayAtHome.

Looking back in 2018 and where we wandered in 2018, it's amazing to remember...