Like a book, a life has many chapters. My latest began in 2020. For more than a decade, I had been writing books—La Bella Lingua: My Love Affair with the World’s Most Enchanting Language, Mona Lisa: A Life Discovered, and La Passione: How Italy Seduced the World—about Italy’s enchanting language and culture. The COVID pandemic scuttled my plans.
In splendid isolation on the rugged coast north of San Francisco, I ventured into the natural wonderland outside my door. With my recently acquired and (somewhat) intrepid rescue dog, I peered into tide pools, trudged over dunes, lingered in wetlands where snowy white egrets nest in the trees like feathery Christmas ornaments. In the tradition of earlier explorers, I brought home treasures: a broken bit of an abalone shell, dried sand-dollars, pebbles that shimmered like jewels in the sunlight, and once—to my family’s horror—the carcass of a seabird gutted by a peregrine falcon.
“You are living the fantasy life of a ten-year-old scout,” said a dismayed friend, noting that I even dressed like one in baseball cap, hoodie, and jeans. “Sooner or later,” she predicted, “your brain is going to kick in.” And it did. The curiosity fueled by a long career in journalism sparked endless questions. In search of answers, I sought out experts—only to discover that I was woefully unprepared to shadow them.
Twenty-five miles offshore on a birding expedition, I couldn’t focus fast enough to scan the petrels and shearwaters winging over the waves. “You need bigger binoculars,” an ornithologist sniffed with a dismissive glance at my dainty opera-glass-size pair.
On another excursion, I lost my footing while tracing a fault line along a slippery cliff. A geologist glanced at my soggy running shoes and declared, “You need hiking boots!”
When a marine biologist suggested meeting at the field site of his eelgrass research, I learned too late that he literally meant “in” Bodega Bay. “You need waders,” he advised as the tide rushed up and over my brand-new boots.
Fully equipped and appropriately attired, I realized that I didn’t want merely to interview nature specialists; I wanted to become one. I enrolled in an intensive University of California course and earned certification as a naturalist. The classes covered everything from oceanography to forestry, watersheds to wildlife, climate change to conservation. But the most enduring lesson simply condensed scientific observation into two straight-forward statements: “I notice…” and “I wonder…”
Noticing and wondering along the Pacific rim, I’ve discovered life in more forms and greater complexity than I ever imagined. I now serve as a docent and research volunteer at the University of California, Davis Bodega Marine Laboratory and Reserve; a tide pool guide for the Stewards of the Coast and Redwoods; and a monitor for the Seabird Protection Network. Whenever possible, I wander with animal trackers, hawk watchers, forest rangers, botanists, photographers, fishermen, and nature lovers of every sort.
Rather than collecting beach bric-a-brac, I gather stories of people, places, life, loss, peril, and resilience. I will be sharing these tales online in “Wondering on a Blue Frontier.” Click the button below to subscribe and receive posts by e-mail.
Wherever you live, I invite you come wander and wonder with me. Adventure awaits!
