Hello Beautifuls,
Welcome back to everyone who’s been here before and welcome to everyone who is new here this week. ❤️ I am grateful for your presence and humbled by your generosity and love. Thank you, thank you.
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The redwoods were the reason I left him waiting in the car for an hour.
I didn’t mean to. I thought he meant it was just a five minute walk down the hill to the pond. We’d started down the path through the oak trees together, but he decided it was too uneven, making his balance even more out of reach. I said I could just hop down the trail later, but he took that to mean now. He said he’d just wait in the car. I figured, how long could it take if he’s willing to wait?
I jogged just to make it shorter, but as I kept rounding corners, staying on the ridge line and not heading down, I kept thinking, I should turn back, then, Maybe I’ll see the pond from just the next turn. I was high enough up the mountain I could see the Stanford tower, a dollhouse replica in the distance, and something that might have been the old military hangars at Moffett Field.
The Bay Laurels gave off their sharp, earthy scent and I followed them down the hillside, as they gave way to the madrones, red alders and redwoods. I jogged onward, sure that I was just around the corner from the pond, otherwise known as the old Schilling Lake. Yes, that Schilling. The spice magnate purchased over 100 acres in the early part of the last century and turned it into his summer home, including a lake he created by damming Dennis Martin Creek. The land was purchased 20 years ago by conservationists. The pond is being left to fill in with water plants, the damn is being slowly dismantled.
As I continued down into the valley, all of the other trees were replaced by redwoods. I was in a redwood grove, sacred and still. I slowed down, took in the damp, cool smells of ferns and redwood detritus on the forest floor. I thought of the man I’d left in the car, but surely he’d want me to stay for a moment. To stand in these redwoods for both of us, now that he no longer could.

My Loves,
I’m working on a project with a very lovely human who spent half of his life working to save and create more open spaces here in the Bay Area. He has invited me to listen to his stories of how these hills and valleys and shorelines that I love came to be protected, one parcel at a time. There are many conservation organizations in California, but he was affiliated with Mid Peninsula Open Space, which now maintains 70,000 acres of land around the Bay Area from wetlands to redwood forests to coastal grasslands.
If I have my way, when I move back here, I will be lucky enough to carry on this work in some way, whether with Mid Pen or another organization. The redwood forests of the coastal Bay Area were decimated in the 1800s by logging. Approximately 1.5 million acres of coast redwood forest in this region have been logged—at least once.
This little essaylette is the beginning of a much longer work (I hope!) telling the stories of this land through the lens of conservation.
I also owe a debt of literary inspiration to the inimitable
. She began an essay with this stunner of a first sentence, “The tsunami warning was the reason we ran out of food.” I’ve had that sentence in my head since I read it weeks ago. It’s brilliant. She goes on with a first paragraph that keeps up with its intro. Here’s the whole thing:The tsunami warning was the reason we ran out of food. That, coupled with the fact that Hannah smoked a blunt after the evacuation to calm her nerves, and she’d been in charge of packing our provisions. God love her, she was a bit flighty even when stone cold sober, so we should have seen that coming. The fact that we didn’t double check was definitely on the rest of us.
You can read this entire essay here. I highly encourage it. Kendall’s stories are wonderful and she is a masterful writer.
Thank you Kendall, for that opening line and I hope you don’t mind that I used it as inspiration for the beginning line of this little piece.
With so much love,
j
xo
Just beautiful Jocelyn! I used to live in Woodside 20+ years ago sandwiched in between Skyline Blvd and Old La Honda Rd. I lovingly referred to my home as a redwood tree house since the redwoods filled every single windowpane. So very appreciative of your story and your photos. It puts me right back there. I also appreciate your passion for wanting to get involved in preserving the magnificent landscape! And the project you are working on sounds amazing!!!! <3
Oh my goodness, Jocelyn! First of all, I always get excited when I see one of your essays in my inbox- your name jumps out from the many other subscriptions I have at this point, and I can't wait submerse myself in what you've written. Your essay, "I learned to watch her skin quiver" got under my own skin so much that I read it once, then twice, and then out loud to my mom, all in the same sitting. It was the kind of writing that made me think that perhaps, with practice and some real sweat and tears, I might be able to craft sentences like that someday. All of that to say, after reading this stunner today, I was floored to discover that a line that I had written had inspired it. Goosebumps. To see a paragraph of mine quoted here means more than I can say.
Also, the opening line is fantastic. I love this as a prompt, because look what came out of it! And the last line was just as strong, " I thought of the man I’d left in the car, but surely he’d want me to stay for a moment. To stand in these redwoods for both of us, now that he no longer could." The bookends! The landing! Writing is magic, and you are a mage. That is all. I'm just going to glow through my morning now. xoxo