During golden afternoons on California's Central Coast, marmalade orange butterflies would flit through the air and fill the skies like candy to the eyes! Now, the idyllic world I grew up in no longer exists, and the monarchs, too, are declining in a precipitous dip.
First, the worn dirt road that flooded each winter became a sweltering mass of asphalt, casting mirages in drought. Then, 1,300 resort-style homes and an overwatered golf course replaced miles of centuries-old Eucalyptus trees, reduced to sawdust within weeks!
As years passed and urbanization crept in, coyote odes to moonlight, frog songs under rainfall, and the migratory dance of wings dwindled.
I stared in disbelief as I saw people park in multi-car driveways lined with fake grass and painted wood chips, using bottles of weedkiller to subdue what little remnants of nature survived beneath the concrete! At that point, my mom called me a "tree hugger," and my dad suggested the changes were how the world operated.
are numbing words I've heard before.
Years later, I would live in Northern California during the largest recorded wildfire in state history, the August Complex, a gigafire visible from space!
Ashes fell from a sky that glowed red each evening, and emergency shelters protected against heavy smoke inhalation.
Stories trickled in from the forest of suffering wildlife. Such as squirrels leaping from the trees in desperation, their bodies completely engulfed in flames!
It felt like living in a hellscape.
With natural cycles swinging out of balance and species going extinct, often, it feels like future generations are being robbed. So, I paint wonderful beings who inhabit the planet alongside us- passing down wonder to aid in their preservation.
While the sweet symphony of life whispers today in a ghostly echo of its former glory, I'm so glad that more people are tuning in.
Thank you,
