Mehr lesen
Informationen zum Autor Eileen Garvin is the author of the national bestselling novel The Music of Bees and the acclaimed memoir How to Be a Sister . Born and raised in Washington State, she lives in Oregon. Klappentext "Nationally bestselling author of The Music of Bees Eileen Garvin returns with a moving story of hope, healing, and unexpected friendship set amidst the wild natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest"-- Leseprobe 1 Nesting Sites Where a bird determines to locate her nest is the key concern in establishing home territory. Oftentimes the nesting site may be inspired by natural boundaries-such as field, fen, shrub steppe, pond, or lake. -G. Gordon's Field Guide to the Birds of the Pacific Northwest $4 Mary Frances O'Neill was a young woman of many firsts. First in her graduate school class in the University of Washington's avian biology program, she was almost certain to graduate with honors. She was also the first female student in the history of Hood River Valley High School to earn a full ride to UW for academics and not sports. She was the first member of her family to complete a bachelor's degree, let alone a master of science. And she was also the first woman in the history of the family-O'Neill on her father's side and Healan on her mother's-to reach the advanced age of twenty-six without becoming a mother. This last, it should be noted, was not an accomplishment universally admired by her kin, many of whom wanted nothing more for her than a marriage with a nice local boy and a steady job at the county. On this September day in 1998, Mary Frances, who almost everyone called Frankie, was not thinking about her academic, professional, or romantic future. She was focused entirely on getting to June Lake, where she hadn't been in more than a year. The truck puttered along the Old BZ Highway north of the Columbia River, hugging the banks of the White Salmon River as it twisted and turned its way through the great dark woods. It was a difficult road, but Frankie knew it by heart-every curve and corner, each patch of rough pavement, and all the road signs, which grew fewer as the highway climbed up into the remote corner of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. Here was the bridge at Husum Falls where flashing white water tumbled over the double drop into the river. There was the wide gray face of the dam that held back the once-wild flow of the White Salmon River. She knew which shoulders would be crowded with kayakers shuttling the whitewater run and which would be thick with fishermen casting from the sloping banks for fall steelhead. Then came fields stretching out on either side of the highway giving way to thickening woods as the road climbed toward the little jewel of an alpine lake tucked high in the forest at the foot of Mount Adams. Frankie cracked the window and listened to the rush of the river and the crash of the falls as she crossed the bridge. A kingfisher keened along the riverbank and a Steller's jay chattered a machine-gun reply. She'd driven this road countless times over the decades with her parents, her brother, her grandparents, and her cousins. This solo trip was a rarity and one she'd been looking forward to for months-clutching it like a lifeline, if she was being honest. Her thoughts drifted as the trees flashed by, and she forced herself to think of practical concerns-the checklist of supplies she'd brought for her trip, the potential change in the weather during this transitional month of September, and the hour of sunset, which was the most important question of the day. Like most people who frequented June Lake, the O'Neill family never ran the boat after dark. Driving at night was to risk running aground in unseen shallows or colliding with old deadhead logs-remnants from the forest's timber heyday-that could surface unexpectedly. And even in summer, the weather could change quick...
