Nymphs and Faeries

I speak for the nymphs and faeries and elementals underneath your feet that you can’t see while you walk past. Invisible beings around you. Visible when your soul is burning bright and the flow of water mixes with blood to become the moon marveling at night, the snow capped mountain during the day.

I speak for the little people that have always been hiding from you among the plants close to your feet.

I speak for the gnomes and mushroom capped miniature, magical men and women who have no patience for your adult cynicism and skeptical minds.

They whisper to those that believe, in our dreams of verdant forests, dense woods, tropical jungles and under the cover of soft blankets.

I speak for them so you don’t frighten them away. I keep their sweet secret existence safe with me.

Clean, Clear and Crisp

Clearing mountain fog covered the valley below, a fluffy blanket thrown carelessly into the air, softly landing into a misty sea of sky and horizontal waves.

From the ridges of the hills, the haze shifted, sinking and sheltering the lowlands with wisps of vapor, criss-crossing hues of greys and off- whites.

Eventually, sunrise crept over the pinnacles and the sun’s fate today was to light up the upper atmosphere in celestial blue, a blank canvas to behold.

In the depths of the creviced, steep shears of granite and conifers where compacted sediment, was layered and settled, both scrub and succulent shared life with the deer, the bear, the critters, the fowl and the dreaded, California black rattlesnake.

Lucky for me, the oak leaves and pine needles now shimmered with their dew and the magic of the day was set in motion with gratitude. I watched to admire, felt festive and joyous and acknowledged this bright new day as sacred.


Pacific Grove, Monterrey, CA

There are very few spots left on this earth like Monterrey. The seals are guarded, the otters are protected, deer munch while traipsing through the streets and whales are watched.

All the while, the walking trails and town center are walkable, picturesque and clean. Basically it’s a peninsula surrounded by a bay and the Pacific Ocean. So every where you look, there’s blue water and the air is pristine and refreshing.

Lots of quaint shops and boutiques, fancy custom homes and well-tended gardens. It’s spring and the flowers just burst with abandon up in colder climes at the first hint of warm sunshine.

Road Trip 2023

Orange Poppies scattered throughout California freeways with green backgrounds and blue skies.

Central California Coast – Lupines brilliantly and naturally popping with color after our deluge of rains.

And deer just munching on front lawns and people’s perennial flowers in Pacific Grove, Monterrey Bay. One of the best beach cities I have ever visited because of its abounding nature and serene energy.

True Peace

True peace lies in the spring budding leaves of the dogwood. Or, a blue jay busy squawking, a chickadee drinking rain water, a red hat wearing woodpecker pecking at a branch for insects, or tiny worms in the bark.

Nature is true peace. Order in my home is beauty and peace. The sitar music with soft beats is true peace. Listening to 963Hz sound vibes is true peace.

The allure of out door vignettes and views are true peace. A plate of food well distributed and colorful is true peace.

The anticipation of bedtime and reading a treasured or new book is true peace. Wonder, enthusiasm and gratitude is true peace.

True peace is not fighting anything or with anyone not even inside myself. True peace is the scent of sweet candles burning bright, sage and incense, perfumed rooms cleansed by essential oils.

True peace is holding a baby, petting a furry family member or hugging, comforting, embracing with intention, releasing tears or sharing the joy of being alive in the same time continuum.

True peace is raindrops tapping onto the roof, cleansing dust off trees, bushes and washing away debris – leaving foliage, buds and flowers scattered below green canopies.

True peace is noticing and being awestruck by life and natural beauty, changes and moments of transformation.

The sky darkens, the sky clears, the sky opens and the sky releases tears.

And I am overjoyed!

Spring 2

Lavender, Spanish, English and a bush of French mums

Purple, lilac, grey and light green,

Violet/Magenta with yellow centered dots

Your scented sweetness tickles my nose

Gather your serenity and brighten my days.


Wildflower of California, orange poppy made of rice paper petals and feathery armed leaves.

You look like a happy camper on the hills and sides of the roads.

Bring me your happy yolk-colored smile.

Y6 – Day 8 – Garden Time

Time to plant some flowers before the rains come again.

Shopping for flowers

Some purple and yellow color for the front door, including 2 early girl tomatoes and 2 organic zucchini. Lavender, mums and drought tolerant plants may be moved from pots to ground later next month. Meanwhile, our winter scene in Running Springs is dour. Another snow dump of maybe 2-3 feet expected this coming week.

The evenings as of late are deliciously sweet and intoxicating with the pink jasmine and pittosporum Victoria box variety fragrance and during the day they are both full of bees. Freesias from years gone by blossom but do not scent the air anymore. Their light purples, lemon yellows, vanilla and coral colored blooms still big and hardy for vase cuttings. Meanwhile, the azaleas in all hues are bursting and our many geraniums are ramping up for the warmer weather with early budding and blooming.

The rains have been good to wild flowers too; especially yellow sour buttercups, orange poppies and any number of dormant seeds including angelic blue lupines hills covered in malachite green grasses. The snow capped mountains beyond form a backdrop of white dripping down as the elevations lower like melting ice cream. All of this against the bluest skies dotted with bright cotton clouds. It’s a springy, lovely day for gardening and I can hear birdsong calling me to wrap this up and join Mother Nature outside.

Time to plant some flowers before the rains come again.

Y6 – Day 5 – Back in 2018 at the cabin – A big bear flying squirrel encounter I will call Rocky

I’m sipping hot chocolate enjoying the fresh air on a May early evening up on our treehouse balcony. I am delighted it’s neither warm nor cool, it’s just Goldilocks right. There’s no kids or noise across the street. There’s no cars driving by our busy road. There’s no neighbors on either side.

I recognize the white bright light of Venus in the sky. It’s low between the sugar pine branches to the southeast of where I am lounging.

And just like that, in a snap of a second, in an instant and flash of time, something flies from behind the east side of the house and whizzes past me and smacks into the bird feeding tree trunk. It’s another flying squirrel and this time I see it glide in full flight and I think to myself this one has to be the male because this guy slams, thank you ma’am, scrabbles up and down and causes havoc.

The other beady eyed glider is still, steady, methodical in her bird feeder attack approach and technique and watches the male with I swear, a roll of her beady eyes. So I just assume inside my own judgmental brain, she’s the female.