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I went shopping last night — on purpose rather than on accident like I normally do. I hate shopping for clothes. I hate even figuring out what to wear. Yet, I think I had fun. When I got home, I opened up my bags and was taken aback by the splash of bright colors and gauzy materials. Who bought these? Not me. I only wear brown, black and shades you find in camo. I only wear clothes that are sturdy and functional. I’ve always been practical, thrifty … but when I really think about it what I’ve really been ever since I came back to Southern California is depressed. These weren’t the colors of a sad girl though– peach, pink, baby blue…these were the colors of something blooming.

I love my family. I love my job. I love love my little house in Banning. But most every bit of falconry, most every gorgeous spread of land has been lost here. Southern California has dilligently scrubbed away every visual remnant of all my favorite memories.

I had dinner with a group of speakers and our Directors from the Girl Scout Council I work for the other night and talked with Cheryl Charles, the Co-President fo the Children and Nature Network. Cheryl is working hard to spread the “Leave No Child Inside” initiative. She articulate, passionate and amazingly attentive. She listened to me trying to explain how the lifelong and ongoing attachment to the land that a falconer has is much like a child in their own patch of wilderness. We have our own grand adventures all through our adulthood. The land we have them on is intimately ours. She asked me about my experiences and I looked out the window of the Panda Inn in Ontario where we were dining. I sighed and told her that my first year as a falconer, I hunted my redtailed hawk right here. “Where are right now?” She asked. “But there’s no land around here at all.” I shook my head. I know.

This is everywhere and all I see down here. I think about the depression pressing on the lives of those in Australia who have lost their land to years of brutal drought. This kind of depression is real. I have to do something about my own. I am. I’m leaving. But I’m also hoping that I can be instrumental in both helping people feel this deep attachment and to stop the pain of the loss. So for me the sadness is lifting. Maybe I can make a difference. At the very least maybe I can help myself. I’m in the airport on my way to St. Louis for a DU meeting right now. I plan on starting here and doing my very best.