The flowers have been among the first to return.
Fragile only in appearance, they pushed their way through dusty rock and wrapped their vines around charred branches. Delicate flowers form deep roots and, sometimes, the most beautiful things in our ecosystem are also the most reliable.
I thought about that often this weekend as I watched my daughter and her friends perform standup in an arena so often dominated by men. It isn’t easy to maintain your femininity while competing for stage time with coarser voices, to own your voice, but these women celebrated theirs. I admired each of them for that strength.
My daughter Katherine and I are also working on a project that honors some of the strong, beautiful women we know and that has been a joy.
Yesterday, I wrapped up my LA visit with a hike. As we made our way through the hills above Santa Monica, Katherine, Benny-the-wonder-dog and I got to witness firsthand the impressive strength and terrifying power of Mother Nature.
The Pacific Palisades fire tore through 24,000 acres in January, decimating everything in its path. Nine months later, charred trees still stand as broken reminders of that terrible time. But, hope winds around and through those trees too.
Cliff asters poke up from the base of the trees, wild morning glories stretch around the branches. Slowly, that scorched earth is returning to life.
I think it’s incumbent on all of us to recognize both the immense power and frightening fragility of our world, and to recognize our role in protecting it.
As Jane Goodall said, “You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
