Yesterday I was a VIP at PoBo—a volunteer in the park at the Point Bonita Lighthouse. I love volunteering there! It’s so beautiful. I leave with sore legs but a lighter spirit. We always have several hundred visitors. They are always so friendly and love the location.
I am intrigued that every time I have volunteered at the lighthouse, at least one person has commented on how wonderful our National Parks and State Parks are—that we set aside these glorious places for everyone to enjoy freely. They at least touch on a core belief that I share with our American Indian heritage: we don’t own the land. The land belongs to everyone.
I also find of interest that the people that share this same sentiment are of all age groups, not just mine. I sometimes have hope that capitalism can be held in check and not gobble up the soul of humanity along with the gifts of our earth.
The angle of the light is that of Fall.
The wind is blowing the fog in for the evening.
Seated here in my office, I can hear the fog horn from the Golden Gate Bridge.
The air is now brisk.
Magic hour sets over the bay.
Last week, as the fog blew in over the roof of the house from the ocean at sunset, it turned flaming red. I felt as though I could reach out and touch it. My entire office had a red glow in it. I’ve rarely seen anything so gorgeous! I wanted to take a picture but it was gone as fast as it came.
I’m glad my father instilled in me a respect for and deep appreciation of nature.