This morning Tyler received a text from a friend who said that Prewitt Ridge has burned. When Tyler told me, I immediately thought with sadness of the weasel that I did see, and the condors and other creatures that I did not see. I thought of the lizard who joined our camp site, probably because he was there first. Nonetheless, he quietly made room.
When Tyler shared his news with me, for a while I could not speak. I have learned that when I camp in a spot, its presence stays with me.
So many fires in the West now. So much damage. So many frightened and thirsty creatures on the run, including humans. Yes, I mourn. I mourn for the lives lost in the Grand Canyon, and in Nepal. We keep trying to conquer the earth, but she will submit only for so long. May we learn to work with her, rather than demanding that the earth work for us.
The 2026 World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation takes place on Tuesday, September 1, 2026, marking the official beginning of the ecumenical Season of Creation. It will run through October 4, 2026, the Feast Day of St. Francis. Quoting Diana Butler Bass: "During these weeks, Christians are urged to recognize the theological centrality of God as Creator, Creation itself, the human vocation of caring for Creation, and doing justice on behalf of the Earth and all creatures."Let us pray, remember, and act accordingly.
Resending my post from May 26, 2016
"Our lives, our circumstances, and our choices are uniquely our own. There are no right answers. But there is a right question. It's the one that rubs against our self-righteousness, resistance, and fears. The one that revolves a never into a maybe into an okay, let's see.
When you ask yourself, 'Why not?' you may find that you are no longer stepping reflexively backward or standing rigidly still. You could instead find yourself in motion, across a vivid and unpredictable landscape, over impossible mountains and beyond the deep blue water's edge, where you surprise yourself, once and for all, by getting wet."
Karen Maezen Miller
On the second day of our trip we drove up a winding and narrow road in Big Sur to Prewitt Ridge. The road is steep and unpaved, so patience and a sturdy 4 wheel drive vehicle are needed. Having experienced Big Sur only from the coastal highway, I was surprised to discover how high the terrain is. (AI tells me that the altitude is "roughly 3,200 feet" and roughly is a good way to describe every inch of those feet.) Nonetheless, we were able to wind our way to the top of the ridge and found a beautiful campsite that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. We could not actually see the water because there was a layer of fog on the ocean as far as we could see. It would move back and forth along the coast and the valley below us, but it never climbed to where we were, nor did it recede far enough so that we could actually see water.
After we set up camp, Tyler took a short walk, and I sat and read for a few minutes. Eventually, we both settled in and simply watched the fog. The movement was mesmerizing. Tranquil is a word I don't get to use much, but that is how I would describe our day and evening. However, late in the night that tranquility was interrupted by a loud scream. We both sat up with "What was that?" rushing from our mouths. We listened and heard the unnerving scream again. Our minds settled enough so we could agree that the scream was probably not of human origin. I mentioned that I had heard that at times some wild cats such as a mountain lion can at times sound human-like. The piercing sound was quite unnerving, and my envisioning a nearby screaming mountain lion did not bring me comfort.
The next morning while still in my sleeping bag, I looked out the window and saw a creature running quickly along the side of our camp. I still had cat on my brain, so I told Tyler that I just saw one run by. He asked what it looked like. I reported that it was tan and smallish with a remarkably long black tipped tail. He then asked if maybe I had seen a weasel. I could not answer the question because I had no idea what one looked like. At that moment we had no cell phone coverage, so the research was delayed, but once I could investigate online, I concurred that I probably did see a weasel. I also learned that in times of high stress or territorial disputes, weasels can and do emit a piercing scream. As alarming as the whole experience was, I feel fortunate to have gotten a glimpse and sound of this creature. When we camp we see and hear birds, mostly jays and woodpeckers, and we often spot lizards and squirrels, but otherwise we do not see much wildlife. Yet, a couple of years ago, we decided to meet two longtime friends at a KOA in Petaluma. They travel in a RV, so we camped among the RVs for two nights. Even in that full campground, a fox and I startled each other on our solitary predawn journeys, and from our friends' campsite I was able to watch an owl taking flight at dusk. I treasure all these brief sightings.
Karen Maezen Miller's quote resonates with me as I learn how to camp. Unlike Tyler, I did not grow up camping, but even in my 70s, I find it a worthwhile endeavor. I am grateful for his skills that help me to get out in nature so I can get a glimpse of some of her landscapes and wildlife. Most of us need to fine tune our senses. Otherwise, we risk being lulled into giving developers a free hand to pave and overbuild. It is too easy to forget that we are all in this together, and we all need space to thrive.
Image: Yes, there is an ocean out there, and goodness knows what else!
May, 2026
