I am staring at our public lands while I write this. It’s not hard for me to do. Every morning when I wake up, I look East across the road and prairie to the mountains and rising sun, and all I can see is public land.

This morning though, I drove up the road and parked trying to catch a glimpse of a herd of does and fawns that ran by when I left to take Morgan to school. But have you ever looked, and I mean really looked at a high mountain prairie? There’s nothing flat about them and there are plenty of features diverse enough to hide deer in that you’d see them once and then never see them again.

Less than a quarter mile behind our house is public land as well. The possibilities for exploration are endless. I see wildlife daily. Mostly pronghorn, but also deer, elk, turkey, bear, skunks, badgers, porcupine, a plethora of local and migratory birds and then list goes on.

But I didn’t always live here. I was born in San Diego. I vaguely remember the sidewalks out front that I’d ride my scooter on with Marty from around the corner. The lawn that Deborah and I would drag our horses and barbies through. The desert tortise that lived by the pool at the neighbor’s.

I mostly remember things like my aunt or grandma taking me to the zoo. Or my parents and grandparents bundling us up and heading to Ocotillo Wells to play in the sand. Or heading to Yuma to fish and jet up and down the Colorado River.

Some days, even 37 years later I think my parents wonder what the hell they did moving us out of San Diego to a map dot, population 5000, in Central Oregon. At seven years old, I had no idea that despite what they felt, it was the best thing for me.

One of my first best friends after moving was five years older than me. Helped me along in my 4-H projects. Rode her horse over to our house,  then  she and I rode a couple miles down to the river. No cell phones. Just be back later.

In my time there, I summited Mt. Jefferson, the Middle Sister, Mount Saint Helens and Mary’s Peak. Rafted the Deschutes and McKenzie Rivers. Fished for trout, salmon and crawdads. Swam in the icy waters of Billy Chinook, Pineville Reservoir, the Crooked, Willamette, Cowlitz, Rogue, Smith, Bitterroot and Clearwater Rivers and more. Dipped my toes in countless ponds and streams and even stock tanks. Combed the beaches, often alone on blustery days weaving in and out of driftwood in search of sand dollars, glass floats and shells. The ocean forever beckons. It is in my blood. My heritage.

When I returned to Yuma, a town itself surrounded by public land, my rental home was also a marvel. Out the back patio, I had a clear view all the way to Mexico across State Trust and the Barry Goldwater Range. Watching storms roll in during the monsoon season was mesmerizing. I relived my childhood in the Sonoran Desert and it’s flowing waters and sun-baked flats.

Talk about a place that teems with life if you know where to look for it. The land just beyond the city limit is a restorative expanse for lost souls and those who seek solace in solitude among the ironwood, mineral-rich rocks and creatures of the night.

When I travel back to Oregon to visit family, I drive the vast ocean of sage grassland. Of mesas and canyons. Peaks and valleys and salt flats. Bunch grass and rabbitbrush. Ponderosa and Juniper on distant hills. The glistening clear water that pools and flows and sometimes disappears beneath the surface where lava once flowed. There isn’t a mile of it that doesn’t call to my heart.

While public land is not unique to the Western United States, we sure do hold the majority of it in this country. Some would rather see it covered in homes, industry, oil fields, solar or wind farms that honestly create more of a hazard than good. (I’m up for a convo if you’re interested in why.)

And to a certain senator north of here, and to anyone that thinks like them including most but not all companies in the following categories: greedy ignorant alternative energy companies that ignore what’s right, petroleum monopolies, land-back advocates, enviro-litigant groups that make you feel like they’re doing something good for the environment, biosolid transports and non-practicing whites, I would not be sad if a bag of rubber phallus like objects were delivered to your desks every holiday from here to eternity expressing my disdain for inept perspectives.

Decision makers often ignore, or simply refuse to acknowledge that once they take, the benefits are lost forever. Or lost at least until the next ice age or asteroid gives our planet another reset. I hope my soul will be around to witness that. I get it. Public land agencies aren’t perfect. And neither is the State Land Department. Without getting into the weeds, if you enjoy our great outdoors and public spaces, here’s my shameless plug to do your civic duty this fall and vote. Make your voice heard at public meetings. Show up for what you care about.

To the companies that do it right, that work with state and federal agencies to conserve what is there and can be there and push our resources to benefit all including the wildlife, thank you for taking the time to care.

There is a reason nature itself is healing. There are plenty of studies confirming that the simple act of being in the forest or being able to see green leaves heals what ails. Our first medicine was derived from plants. In many instances, it still is. When we trust it and work with, rather than against it. And I know being outside works. I’ve seen it from the ground. The air. The water.

I am not alone in feeling the pull of our planet. Things beyond our earth. The grounding that comes with soil between our toes. Feathers or fur cradled in our hands. The sunshine on our shoulders. Water across our skin.  The beings we share the space with. Our public spaces are for all to enjoy and for all to find, or lose themselves in. The places that so many of us want our families to enjoy for generations to come.

Woven into my very being, our public lands are who I want to be tomorrow. Who I am today. Who I was yesterday. And not just because of where I live, public lands don’t just feel like home, they are home.