March 30, 2021

What is it that you see when you look in the mirror? I see a spirit making it through the mundane and the madness. I see a spirit tired but true to self. I see a spirit, bleary eyed and a bit broken, who wakes up every morning to do what’s right for her children. I see sensuality and strength that hasn’t succumbed to societies scripts. And I see a shapeshifter. A spirit who moves between the trees and between the beams; a spirit moving through the in-between.

February 14, 2021

Moonstone Beach is one of our favorite spots. Sunrise and sunset are my favorite times. I don’t know, I guess I’m just a sucker for that soft sensuous light; it calls me in, and calls me home.

Moonstone holds a special and sacred place in my heart. The ocean here is so fierce and full, sucking you in and spitting you out. Its changing tides and moods reflect my Cancerian soul and the hypnotic ebb and flow fills and empties my soul.

January 13, 2021

It’s easy to believe you have stepped inside an enchanted forest when wondering the forests of Northern California. One stumbles upon spider webs illuminated with dew, spanish moss seductively dripping, and usnea asking to play. My mind and being begin to drift, and thoughts of creation and existence coincide with the fallen log covered in fungi; our oldest ancestor.

November 20, 2020

Northern California consists of coastal forests whose moist environments are produced by Pacific storms in the winter, and coastal fogs in the summer. Ancient Redwoods, Douglas-Fir and Tan Oaks make up these sacred forests, as do Closed Cone Pines.

I think winter is my favorite season here. Yes, I love those Spring blooms, the summer swims, and the fall harvests, but there is something intrinsically magical about the winter. There is a stirring of slumber, and a slowness seeps in and sets a new pace.

Rain permeates the earth releasing the fruiting bodies of mycelium and moss; it’s so pungent you can taste it. I so wish I could capture the smell, to place it in a mason jar to open like a medicine as needed. But this alchemy is authentic. It can’t be commodified and capitalized, which makes winter moments so sweet. Its time, just like its fragrance, is fleeting.

September 9, 2020

It was a difficult time for many of us in California last summer and fall; around the world really. It seemed the whole world was on fire, and with the tensions of politics, social injustice, and Covid, it was becoming unbearable. Around 4:30am on this day, Craig woke me up and told me to get our girls ready, to pack what we could, and to go.

What do you take? It’s interesting, these moments you’ve prepared for; you really haven’t. My books, grandma’s watch, the girls baby dolls and tea set from more then a decade ago…. Passports and papers became replaceable, but that stone from the Eel and the seeds in the pantry…. what mattered became so clear. We were more fortunate than other’s, for we had time to pick and choose, but knowing you were leaving with a chance of coming back to nothing was one of the most surreal and saddest moments of my life. 17 years repurposing this old logging land into a regenerative homestead knowing the winds and the flames could erase it in seconds made my existence and energy here seem fruitless.

The fire didn’t jump the river, and when we returned a few weeks later, it was all still here. I think about how that day set lines on my face and heart, but it was much more than that moment. Many of us in California lived with the smoke and surreal sky’s for weeks and months on end, and many people lost everything. That summer and fall was a sci-fi screening, a preview of a future set to come.

August 16, 2020

Covid has set a new precedent for meeting friends for coffee. Things don’t always look and feel the way we’d like them to, but it’s important to make do with what we’ve got.

Coffee with friends at