I spent time walking the land at Marie’s Farm this morning and relished her wet socks and bird calls and visions of spiral rows of new fruit trees to come. 108 acres just shy of Pescadero, CA and the Pacific, the place offers a critical balance between old machine parts, imaginal yurt chats and seed starts. Patrick and I are scheming mythic: we see an online exhibit of illustrations and new Nature-based myths in April and then a Nature-infused perma-arts conference in June. Tents required.
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