Home - Where Our Stories Are Written

July 30, 2026 I By Katie Cox, Executive Director

Dear Friend,

Happy Summer!

A few months before my mom's 80th birthday, my dad handed us a tiny scrap of white paper. On it (in pencil), he'd written the names of five special places scattered across Idaho, Oregon, and Montana. Places our family had camped, explored, fished, laughed, and made memories together over the years. The goal wasn't to plan an elaborate birthday. It was simply to find a place where our whole family could be together, something that becomes surprisingly rare once the kids (that's me!) grow up and make homes of their own.

At first, it sounded perfect.

Then it occurred to me that if the goal was simply to be together, there was really only one place that made sense.

My parents' home sits on forty acres tucked into the Idaho woods, with Little Elk Creek winding through the bottom of the property and trails climbing the ridges, some carrying the names of the grandchildren and one named for the lone natural juniper that stands along the trail. It's a place where every path has an origin story, where the front porch or side porch, depending on the sun's position, has hosted countless conversations, and where even the little outhouse, lit by a stained-glass window my grandfather made, has become part of our family's story. As the weekend unfolded, I realized something I hadn't before. Those camping spots held wonderful memories, but home is where our story is still being written.

As my three sisters and I gathered there with our families, I found myself thinking about the quiet power of place. We often think memories live in photographs or family stories, but I think they live in landscapes, too. Certain places have a way of gathering the moments of our lives. Every visit adds another layer. Another birthday. Another shared meal. Another walk down a familiar trail.

That's one of the reasons conservation matters so much to me.

When we protect a forest, a family farm, a creekside property, or a community gathering place, we're doing more than preserving beautiful scenery. We're making sure there are places where life can continue to unfold. Places where families can return year after year. Places where traditions take root, children grow up, and ordinary afternoons quietly become the stories that will be told decades from now.

As we packed up to leave, I found myself feeling grateful that my parents chose that little piece of Idaho so many years ago. They gave our family more than a place to live. They gave us a place to belong.

Those are the kinds of places worth protecting.

Take care,

Katie