Six Months on Sacred Ground

Reflections from My First Half-Year with Montezuma Land Conservancy and Trees, Water & People

I still remember my first week in this new role — the mix of excitement and uncertainty that comes with stepping into something that feels bigger than yourself. I remember standing along the Mancos River, boots sinking softly into the riverbank, the hum of life all around — willows whispering, water rushing, the smell of earth both familiar and new. Six months later, that feeling hasn’t left me. If anything, it’s deepened — shaped by the people, places, and partnerships that have given this journey such meaning. It truly feels like we’re standing on sacred ground — not just in the physical sense, but in a moment that holds the potential for something transformative.

Spring: Beginnings and Belonging

It’s an incredibly exciting time for private land conservation in Colorado. The network of land trusts and conservation partners across the state feels more connected and visionary than ever before — a community united by purpose, collaboration, and care. In spaces like the Keep It Colorado Spring Summit, I’ve seen that momentum firsthand. There’s an energy, a shared understanding that conservation is no longer just about protecting acres — it’s about restoring relationships.

As the seasons began to turn, I found myself drawn deeper into that vision. My spring months were filled with introductions and reconnections — stepping into meetings, walking new landscapes, and remembering familiar voices. At the County Road 39 restoration site along the Mancos River, where nearly a mile of riparian habitat is being restored, I spent time with crews from the Ancestral Lands Conservation Corps (ALCC) and Southwest Conservation Corps (SCC) — many of whom I knew from my previous years with SCC. It felt like returning to family. Watching them build post-assisted log structures and share stories reminded me how restoration can be both ecological and deeply personal — how tending to the land also means tending to one another.

There were moments that grounded me in community — the MLC annual picnic, where I met board members and landowners whose generosity sustains the Traditional Harvest Project, and the MLC and Trees, Water & People (TWP) staff mini-retreat, which included attending the Ute Mountain Ute Bear Dance. Standing there among community members, music rising in rhythm with the land, I was reminded that ceremony and stewardship are intertwined; both are acts of gratitude.

Summer: Connection and Continuity

Summer brought movement and a sense of deepening connection. I was fortunate to tag along with TWP on a trip to the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming. That week was filled with learning and listening — sharing meals, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection under wide open skies. It was also a time of inspiration. I had the honor of meeting Dr. Dominique David-Chavez and learning more about her Indigenous Land & Data Stewards Lab, whose work continues to inspire me and shape how I think about Indigenous-led conservation — not as a concept to study from afar, but as a living, breathing practice rooted in relationship.

We also had the privilege of spending time with Jason Baldes and learning about the Wind River Tribal Buffalo Initiative, a powerful example of ecological restoration interwoven with cultural revitalization and sovereignty. Witnessing that work reminded me that the future of conservation lies in honoring the past — in letting Indigenous leadership and traditional knowledge guide us forward.

Back home, August was a season of gathering. I had the honor of presenting at the Native American Fish & Wildlife Southwest Regional Conference, and later, of welcoming nearly the entire TWP staff to Southwest Colorado for their annual retreat. We shared our hopes and dreams, our challenges, and our vision for what comes next. We toured the Ute Mountain Ute Tribal Park, visited the County Road 39 project site, and dreamed together about the future of our collective work. Those days were filled with laughter, vulnerability, and purpose — the kind of moments that make this work feel deeply human.

This is the kind of collaboration that my new Cross-Cultural Programs Coordinator role was built to nurture. In May of 2025, MLC and TWP welcomed me into this shared position — a bridge between two organizations whose missions are deeply intertwined. Supported by both teams’ combined resources and guided by our Tribal partners, this role exists to ensure that Indigenous leadership and local priorities remain at the center of our work together.

Fall: Reflection and Renewal

As fall arrived, the pace of the work shifted. After a full and fast-paced summer, October brought one of the most meaningful experiences of my time so far: our annual Fall Event and planting days at County Road 39. It was a true labor of love — an event that felt like the heart of what we do. Together, MLC, TWP, the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, partners, and community members gathered along the river to plant willows, cottonwoods, and chokecherries — to celebrate the land, and to celebrate each other.

What made this event even more special was the presence of so many inspiring people. Dr. Dominique David-Chavez and her graduate student, Griselda Londa-Posas, joined us as guest speakers — continuing the conversations we began at Wind River. We were also joined by Dr. Carrie Joseph of the Hopi Tribe Department of Natural Resources and her staff, whose participation symbolized the growing reach of this work across Tribal Nations. Standing together — planting, laughing, reflecting — it was clear that the Traditional Harvest Project has become more than a program. It’s a movement that continues to ripple outward. Returning to the river during those planting days, surrounded by friends, colleagues, and partners, I felt the season’s quiet message: growth doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it’s steady, rooted, patient — like the willows taking hold along the water’s edge.

Looking Ahead

Working alongside Montezuma Land Conservancy and Trees, Water & People has reaffirmed something I’ve always felt but now truly understand: conservation can be an act of healing. It can be about returning, remembering, and reimagining what it means to be in relationship with land and with each other. This work — rooted in partnership with the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe and guided by Traditional Ecological Knowledge — feels both ancient and new. It’s a continuation of stories that began long before us and will continue long after.

As I look ahead, I feel immense gratitude — for the colleagues who teach me, the communities who welcome me, and the land that continues to offer its lessons. As I said at our Fall Event, “The state of the Traditional Harvest Project is well. The state of Indigenous lands work here in Southwest Colorado is budding. It truly feels like we’re on the precipice of a paradigm shift in conservation.” And I believe that. The state of this work is hopeful. The relationships are strong. And the future we’re tending — one rooted in respect, reciprocity, and restoration — is already beginning to bloom.

A Call to Action

This work is only possible because of the generosity and vision of people who believe in the power of community-led conservation. As we look toward the coming year, we invite you to join us in supporting the Traditional Harvest Project and the broader work of Montezuma Land Conservancy.

On Colorado Gives Day, your contribution directly sustains programs that restore landscapes, uplift Indigenous leadership, and strengthen the bonds between people and place. Together, we can ensure that this movement continues to grow — deeply rooted and full of life. Donate anytime through MLC’s Colorado Gives Day page, or right here on our website: montezumaland.org/donate.