Each day comes bearing its own gifts. Untie the ribbons.
~ Ruth Ann Schabacker

Colorful Leaves, Orange, Massachusetts 2007
Each day comes bearing its own gifts. Untie the ribbons.
~ Ruth Ann Schabacker

Colorful Leaves, Orange, Massachusetts 2007
Though I tend to have my feet firmly planted in the physical, observable world I contemplate the metaphysical aspects of our existence from time to time. Two recent instances have me wondering more about kismet (aka fate, karma).
In early May I took a tour of Grass Mountain, an old homestead property, that the Sitka Center for Art and Ecology recently purchased. I was eager to take the tour since it would be my introduction to the Sitka Center where I had signed up to take several classes this summer. Mindy led our tour and after a delightful morning of exploring we chatted over a picnic lunch.
A month later I received an email from Mindy. She wanted to know if I’d be interested in leading a nature walk at Grass Mountain for an author who would be teaching a class at Sitka in July. I hesitated momentarily since I am not an expert on the temperate rainforest environment but then I reminded myself that I had plenty of time to prepare. Besides, I have years of experience in leading these kinds of outings. Mindy put me in touch with Nancy so I could design a program that would best complement her writing workshop.
During our conversation I learned that Nancy too had lived in Tucson before moving to Oregon. To help me understand her class focus she sent me an essay she’d published years ago, Surviving: What the Desert Teaches Me. In the first paragraph of the piece, Nancy quoted a docent at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. The cadence sounded familiar to me and I wondered if her docent was by any chance a friend of mine. In the third paragraph my suspicions were confirmed when she mentioned Marilyn by name.
I worked with Marilyn in various capacities over the past nine years on invasive species projects. In fact, I was so inspired by Marilyn’s hard work and dedication that I nominated her for the 2015 Cox Conserves Hero award, which, of course, she won.
I finished reading the piece then I immediately emailed Nancy back about our intertwined histories. I also asked two questions; first, could I attend her workshop and second, could I share her essay with Marilyn. The answer was yes to both!
Marilyn had not read the piece and she was moved to learn that her volunteer work had that much impact on Nancy. I know Marilyn happily does all her good work without accolades but she (like anyone else) can use a reminder about how she is powerful, positive force for good.
The Landscape and Memory workshop wrapped up two weeks ago and I am still basking in the afterglow. Not only was it an invigorating learning experience but it felt fantastic to be back in the field leading a nature walk. Even more gratifying when Nancy told me that my tour had exceeded her expectations.

The week after Nancy’s workshop I attended a short art class on Sun Printing at Sitka. As I listened to the instructor introduce herself I thought her voice sounded familiar but I didn’t recognize her. Karen mentioned that she just retired from teaching at Pima Community College in Tucson. That opened up more possibilities but nope, still no connection. Then she explained an art project she was working on dealing with invasive species…and everything clicked.

We had corresponded by email and phone about her invasive species project three years ago! Our tentative plan had been that I would guide Karen in the field identifying invasive species while explaining the issues, removal efforts, and restoration projects. In return, she would allow our nonprofit to showcase her art to help raise awareness about the cause. It was a brilliant plan, however we weren’t able to coordinate our timing between both our busy schedules.
What incredible connections! Both of these recent experiences have helped assuage my intermittent concerns about moving from Tucson to the Oregon Coast. They seem like signs that I am meant to be here…
Between every two pine trees is a doorway leading to a new way of life.
~ John Muir

Cape Disappointment State Park, Ilwaco, Washington 2013
It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.
~ Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

Tail End of a Diamond-backed Rattlesnake, Sweetwater Wetlands, Tucson, Arizona 2014
The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.
~ Michael Altshuler

Black Skimmers, Port Aransas, Texas 2007
There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
~ Willa Cather

Boat in the Fog, Bar Harbor, Acadia National Park, Maine 2007
Around the beginning of July intriguing cylindrical globs of goo started washing ashore. On closer inspection the finger-long structures were filled with round tapioca-sized lumps, which led me to believe they were a type of egg sac. A week later I started finding clear, long feather-like structures.
Turns out the California Market Squid (Doryteuthis opalescens) is the source for both of my mystery objects. If you like calamari, this is your squid! Let me clarify, the female of the species is responsible for what has been washing ashore in great numbers.
Both sexes congregate together in spawning grounds along the continental shelf from Alaska down to Baja. The day after an “extended mating embrace” the female begins excreting fertilized eggs into a protective capsule. She can produce around 20 capsules, each with about 100 eggs. The capsule is attached to other capsules with a sticky substance. Multiple females will attach their capsules together creating large communal masses (some covering acres) in the nearshore sand.
What a tremendous amount of work – produce 2000 eggs and attach them to others all while avoiding predation and fighting the motion of the ocean. No wonder this is her final act as an adult squid! Which serves to remind me yet again of an important nature lesson, having kids can kill you.
After death, her body is nibbled away by fish and other ocean predators. Often the only thing that washes ashore is the gladius. This stiff structure made of chitin is also commonly called a squid pen. I heard that historically the pens from larger species were used as writing instruments, much like quills, hence the name.
I wonder what will wash ashore next…
Let us endeavor to live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.
~ Mark Twain

Grave Marker, Pinal City Cemetery, Superior, Arizona 2005

Say it out loud. Still don’t get it? Here’s a hint, it is located along the Big Muddy.
Red Wing, Minnesota 2009
It is an incalculable added pleasure to any one’s sum of happiness if he or she grows to know, even slightly and imperfectly, how to read and enjoy the wonder-book of nature.
~ Theodore Roosevelt

Saguaro Arm, Tucson, Arizona 2009