Why so serious?

Yesterday was the first day of Spring. The Equinox. Y'know, balance of light and dark and what-have-you. Usually I come up with some elaborate celebration that involves fires and ceremony and all that.

This year I didn't plan anything. Not purposely, mind you, but because it kinda snuck up on me. What ended up happening? French toast breakfast, motorcycle to the lake, hang out in the forest all day, ride back through the mountains, glorious BBQ chicken dinner, fall into bed exhausted.

(A special thank you to Sante, who rode all over the mountains, through trees and on bumpy roads just to make me happy. Well, and I think he likes it too. You rule.)

I've never been one for planning, unless it's something I think is really important. But lately I've been learning that importance is relative. And you should never take yourself too seriously.

A tree hugger's ode

I'm not sure when, but somewhere along the line I started realizing that trees were talking to me. I believe in the magic of trees. They're graceful, patient, resilient, and wise. No matter where I go, they never fail to humble me...

Here I am in the forests in northern Washington, where I think I first learned that cigarette butts were actually garbage. (Still working on bring *that* karma bank account back to zero!)

Trondheim's trees were so wild they wanted to give me a hug. And they were in a cemetery.

Oh Minneapolis. The tree canopies over busy Lyndale Avenue in the fall will never fail to make me smile.

It's all green and mossy--how fitting for a tree in Ireland! It's as if it's wearing a tree fleece.


This one told me a few secrets. I'm headed back to Big Sur for a second installment one of these days.

To all the trees in the world: You know I love you, but I just wanted to give you a little shout out. You make every day! (And you make tons of oxygen...gracias!)