the mists of cazadero

as i undress beside the ghost of spring, memories are unveiled in the fog that laps at the edges of redwood forests.

miner's lettuce, crunchy, juicy, sweet, quenching, my intro to wild foods.

maidenhair fern, whimsical, bound to secrecy.

hound's tongue, unexpected, stoic.

witches butter, flourescent and seductive.
last year's hypericum, scraggily looming at it's radius, shadowing new growth at its base anticipating the celebration of summer solstice.
intoxicating bay, even in decay is sensual.
verdent, supple tips of the new young growth of douglas fir, sweet with dew.
wild blue flag iris, did you escape the confines of an english garden?

amole, a mystery until subtle blooms coyly sprout.

indian warrior, billowing over the hillsides in explosions of magenta.

missions lily, hen speckled, it took me months to i.d. you. and you were only one. the only one, for miles.

orchid...orchid....orchid

indian pinks, a burst of rubies on the tails of summer.
sticky monkey flower, shouting my name in every direction, "i see you! you are everywhere!"
yarrow, a coastal scent-story of discovery.
mugwort, all of you artemisias, absinthia, tridentata, californica, you are forever a part of my life now, no longer a mythic image in my knowledge of your existence. i could talk pages about you.
trillium, our story started here. 

through all the frustrations, i found worth - i enjoyed every morning i woke before sunrise, walked under the crisp, dank shadows of the redwood canopy, to meet the streams of yellow sun peak over the ridge tops...dogs rolling in dew laden hills, trampling over st. john's wort, all the while i was being mindful not to step on them - every noon hiking to the groves, scavenging the ground for mildly bruised but deliciously bittersweet plums with tart, dusty skins - every afternoon, plucking wildly out of control blackberries, all yanged out with thorns, warmed by the mid day's sun - ending the year 2 miles from the coast line, mostly sunny winter days, the sounds of the russian waters rushin' by...with pomo canyon as my neighbor i frequented it's belly, a place where peace resides.