There is a privilege in coming home. I mean the profound privilege of returning to the land my family comes from—to wake beneath familiar skies, surrounded by mountains, desert, plants, animals, stories, ancestors, and Konitsaaii, the river that has sustained our people for generations beyond counting. I get to live here, work here, and spend my days protecting the land and community that shaped me. I do not take that for granted. Some mornings, I look outside and am struck b

The harvest of corn did not end in the fields—it lived on in kitchens, hearths, and gatherings. Once dried and ground into masa, corn became