Ali and me at the Urban Bee Lab booth at the Menlo College Wine & Art Festival. 🐝 Grateful to bee 🐝 at the Menlo College Wine & Art Festival with Ali Harris (our daughter) in the @UrbanBeeLab booth! We spent the day talking with visitors, sharing honey from around the U.S. and supporting Urban Bee Lab’s work. It was a wonderful day of people stopping by, getting curious, learning something new and helping something good grow.

Five years ago, I woke up with broken ears. My ears never went back to the way they were. My life came back anyway. Sunday morning, my friend Casey said something I couldn't stop thinking about: “What a privilege it is to be right here, right now.” She invited us to look back five years and remember who we were, where we were and what we were facing. So I did. Five years ago, I was fighting for my life. I had woken up with broken ears. The noise inside my head was overwhelmi

Ten minutes down my own driveway, and apparently Fall had been waiting for me. It poured. In California. In early September. So, after the rain, Ghost and I took a ten-minute stroll down the driveway to see what had happened. Apparently Fall was tired of waiting for me to notice. The first thing I saw was the color. Wet leaves were turning red, fallen madrone leaves covered the ground, and the moss on the trees was almost fluorescent green. But what stopped me wasn't somethi

Apparently the universe has put me on a schedule. Wednesday: gratitude. Got it. 😂 I opened a fortune cookie recently and found this very specific instruction: “Wednesday will be the day to express gratitude for the blessings in your life.” Not someday. Not when you have a minute. Wednesday. Apparently the universe has put me on a schedule. 😂 Sunday morning, my friend Casey said something I couldn't stop thinking about: “What a privilege it is to be right here, right now.”

I was delighted when I spotted him peeking over the brush. Then I realized he was looking right back at me. Sometimes when we stop to notice the world, the world notices us too. I saw the antlers first. Then the ears. Then that wonderful face peeking over the brush. I stopped to look at him. And then I realized... he was looking at me. Lately I've been walking the same trails I've walked for years, but I'm seeing them differently. Maybe it's because I've been deliberately pra

This tree is right outside my great-room window. I look toward it nearly every morning, as I gaze east over Silicon Valley to where the sky begins to brighten, and the sunrise arrives. And then one morning, I saw her. A heart. I've been looking out this window for 20 years, but I'm seeing things differently. Maybe it's because I've been deliberately practicing what I call Bloomscrolling, my antidote to doomscrolling. Instead of scrolling through everything that's wrong with

I went back to find the Hobbit Tree. Turns out, I had already found it. Sometimes what we're searching for is right in front of us. We just don't recognize it. Well, this is embarrassing. I told you about going back to find my Hobbit Tree, the wonderful old tree where I'd planned to leave a little yellow kindness rock. I couldn't find it. So I found another wonderful tree, tucked the rock inside, and decided perhaps the magic wasn't where I'd left it. There was just one probl

I found a Hobbit Tree, painted the perfect little rock for its doorway, and went back to deliver it. There was just one problem. I couldn't find the tree. Fortunately, the mountain provided another solution. And then there are the trees that apparently exist simply to mess with me. On a hike with Ghost, I discovered a wonderful tree with a little opening at its base that looked exactly like a Hobbit hole. Obviously, such a discovery required a rock. I went home and painted on

I thought I had discovered "Mother Tree." Then my brother found an old journal hidden among her rocks, and I learned something wonderful. Other people had recognized her long before I arrived. I first spotted Mother Tree from one of my favorite trails in the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District. The trail looks west across rolling grasslands and forests toward the Pacific Ocean, and I've hiked it many times over the years. One day, I noticed an enormous, beautifully shap

There's an enormous old tree beside Indian Rock Trail that always reminds me of my Grandpa. At first, I'll admit, it was the nose. But the longer I've known Grandpa Tree, the more I've realized the resemblance goes much deeper. There's an enormous old tree standing beside Indian Rock Trail that I pass regularly on my hikes. I call him Grandpa Tree. I'll admit that it started with the nose. My Grandpa had a substantial nose. So does this old forest giant. But the more I've tho

When we moved to the Santa Cruz Mountains, I barely noticed the enormous old oak standing beside our driveway. Then I noticed one perfect branch. More than twenty years later, the swing hanging from it has become part of the story of a much bigger swing in my life. When we moved to the Santa Cruz Mountains in 2002, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. The house, the mountains, the view stretching out over Silicon Valley. There was so much to see that I barely noticed

In August 2020, our mountain changed overnight. Three days later we were evacuated with four unhappy cats, two dogs, and no idea what we'd find when we came home. Come walk with me... Nature has a remarkable way of reminding us that what looks like an ending may not be the whole story. After the CZU Lightning Complex Fire, I expected to mourn the loss of one of my favorite places. Instead, I found hope quietly sprouting from blackened trunks. That discovery became the final

More than twenty years ago, I rounded a bend on a little dirt road leading to the Jikoji Zen Buddhist Retreat and met the biggest madrone tree I had ever seen. Come walk with me... Sometimes we don't realize we've made a lifelong friend until we've been visiting them for twenty years. This old madrone has watched me hurry past on countless hikes to the Jikoji Zen Center. Looking through old photographs, I realized she wasn't simply changing. She had quietly been teaching me

One extra loop. One unexpected turn. And suddenly, my familiar old hiking trail was completely enchanted. Come walk with me... I’m beginning to think there may be a little magic happening in these Santa Cruz Mountains. Yesterday, Ghost and I were finishing our hike. We wanted to take just another quarter mile to reach our two-mile goal, so we took one extra loop. We came around a corner… And there was a man standing on top of a huge boulder, waving an enormous bubble wand and

When Jim and I celebrated our tenth anniversary, twenty-six years ago, we did something a little unusual. We put a big flip chart up on our cruise cabin wall and planned the next ten years of our lives... Come walk with me... Some dreams begin with a single wish. Others quietly grow for decades. As I looked through old photographs this week, I realized these three little redwoods weren't just trees. They had been standing beside one of the biggest dreams Jim and I ever share

Some places don't need words. They simply welcome us back. Maybe that's why I keep returning to these trails. Every visit reminds me that a little quiet can go a long way. Visit www.ThankU.io for the full story. #ThankU.io #Grateful #SantaCruzMountains Grateful for the places that ask nothing from us except that we arrive, I smiled when I saw someone quietly sitting beneath the trees. We never spoke, but I understood exactly why she had come. Some mornings the mountain gr

Gratitude often begins with curiosity. I almost walked right past this old tree before something made me stop, lean closer, and wonder who might be living inside. Sometimes paying attention is enough to make an ordinary walk feel magical. I still talk to trees. Well...sometimes. This old hollow made me stop and smile. Curiosity has a wonderful way of slowing us down long enough to appreciate the little worlds we usually miss. Visit www.ThankU.io for the full story. #Thank

It wasn't really rain. Just enough giant drops to change the air. Sometimes the smallest moments become the ones we remember most because they invite us to slow down and notice. 🍁. Visit www.ThankU.io for the full story. #ThankU.io #Grateful #SantaCruzMountains Grateful moments don't always announce themselves with a rainbow or a dramatic sunset. Sometimes they arrive as a single maple leaf, a few oversized raindrops, and the quiet feeling that the season has begun to chang

There are benches along my favorite trails that have become old friends. This one Not every gift is wrapped. Sometimes it's a weathered wooden bench beneath an old tree, waiting for whoever needs it next. I'm learning to trust those little provisions along the way. Visit www.ThankU.io for the full story. #ThankUio #Appreciation #SantaCruzMountains appeared just when my legs were beginning to feel the miles. Whether someone built it years ago for themselves or for strangers th

Sometimes the most beautiful part of being in nature is remembering we're not the only ones doing the noticing. That little question stayed with me long after the hike was over. Visit www.ThankU.io for the full story. #ThankUio #Appreciation #SantaCruzMountains Most of us think appreciation is something we do. We notice a bird, a flower, a squirrel. But standing quietly beneath the trees this week, I found myself asking a different question. What if, for just a moment, she no