Between the Holidays: Trees, Trails, Family Tales... and Bluey
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always a little special—a quiet pause before we begin again. This year, I spent it in California, visiting family and exploring the beauty of the region. It was a week filled with adventures, reflection, and connection.
One of the highlights was a visit to Alcatraz. I’ve always been fascinated by the island—not just the tales of famous escapes but also the lesser-known histories, like the Indigenous occupation in the 1970s. Seeing the repainted protest messages from that time was powerful and thought-provoking. It’s a place layered with stories, each as compelling as the last. And, to my delight, we also spotted our first banana slug of the trip on the island (the first of many for me that week). It begged the question: how did a banana slug even get there?
The next morning, we took a walk at Moss Beach, my aunt’s favorite place in the whole world. While there, we found two incredible abalone shells—their beauty was breathtaking. Since the beach is protected, we knew we couldn’t take them with us, but to ensure they were left untouched by others who might not share the same respect, we tossed them back into the sea with the seals. It felt like the right way to honor their beauty.
Every time I get out that way, I try to find time to get up in the Redwoods. The towering trees always remind me of how small we are in the grand timeline of this planet. Nature has its own order, its own rhythm, and stepping into those great woods feels like reconnecting to something bigger than myself. It’s a humbling, grounding experience—one that stays with me long after I’ve left. And yes, I saw lots more banana slugs. Between outings, I found myself watching more episodes of Bluey with my family. The simple, heartfelt stories had me hooked, and I may even keep watching now that I'm home.
We also went on two incredible hikes, each offering breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean. At the top of Mori Point, we paused to watch ravens playing in the updrafts. One raven would soar by with an object in its claws, and the others tumbled and chased after it, as if playing a game. It was a moment of pure joy, watching their aerial dance.
The second hike brought us to Pedro Point, just down the coast and back to a favorite tree perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Its long, winding branches seemed to reach toward the water, as if yearning to be closer to the sea breeze. Since our last visit, two large branches had broken. Kabe asked me if it made me sad. It didn’t, not really—but it did make me think. These magnificent trees feel timeless. I never really thought that someday they might not be there when I return, and yet they are as much a part of nature’s cycle as anything else.
I've noticed a couple of the large red wood trees have fallen since I started visiting them as well. I remember running into a fellow once on a trail who talked about how the trees had two lifetimes: one spent standing, shading, protecting, and providing for the forest below—and the other after it had fallen to the ground, slowly returning to the earth. It’s a silent rhythm that echoes a larger truth: our existence too is fleeting but impactful, woven into a tapestry of growth, decay, and renewal—marked more poignantly at this time of year when the turning of the calendar reminds us of the cycles we live within. Just as the trees give themselves back to the earth, we too find moments to reflect, to let go, and to prepare for new beginnings. Just as the trees give themselves back to the earth, we too find moments to reflect, to let go, and to prepare for new beginnings.
Of course, no trip is complete without good food, and this week we ate like royalty. From a crab feast to homemade posole to a standing crown roast paired with wild rice, mushrooms, asparagus, and roasted artichokes, every meal was a feast. I’m still full just thinking about it.
On my last day in California, we wandered down to the pier after grabbing some coffee. To our delight, a pack of dolphins appeared, playing in the surf. They moved quickly, but it was obvious they were riding the big January Pacific waves, their joy evident even from afar. It was a magical way to wrap up an already incredible trip. The magic of those final days felt even more special as we unwound with a few more episodes of Bluey, a show that brought as much joy to our downtime as the adventures did to our days.
California always has a way of leaving me inspired, and this trip was no exception. From the history of Alcatraz to the quiet wisdom of the Redwoods to the warmth of family and the joy of shared meals, it was a week to remember. Most importantly, the time with family was unforgettable. With a new baby expected in February, it felt special to spend this time together—a chance to savor the last moments of this chapter before they turn the page and begin to write the next one. I do wonder, though, if the new baby will grow to love Bluey as much as we do—we sure hope so!