Who knew that when we moved here we’d end up in a “neighborhood” with all these commercial buildings? When we bought our property we saw the plot map with many lots, so we knew there would be others seeking sanctuary in this beautiful spot in Baja Sur. But somehow I was naive. I didn’t realize the building wouldn’t be single family residences like ours. Instead of “Pave paradise and put up a parking lot” we have an infestation of commercial building. No rules followed. No rules enforced. These builders just keep going.

For people who want to come experience paradise and then go home, this is great news. For the people who actually live here year round, this is more like a nightmare.

The pressure on the environment is one of the nightmares. People make trash and people make sewage. Both of those things are a big problem here. The landfill here is in no way what a landfill should be. It’s just a bunch of trash piled in a big area. The methane gas it creates means fires all the time and the smoke comes directly to town. So until something is done about it, more trash means more hideous smoke. And occasionally it is completely shut down. Then we have to take our trash to Cabo.

We bought a bunch of bins for recycling and the Todos Santos recycling center takes a lot of our cans, #1 and #2 plastic, paper, cardboard, glass, and aluminum. Now we’re making better decisions about what to buy in packaging. The two of us make one trash bag every three weeks. There are quite a few of us who recycle, but it’s not enough. We keep thinking of ways to cut down.

I won’t go into the sewage problem because nobody wants to read about it. But I will say that there is a long road coming from Pescadero to the beach that often flows with sewage. Disgusting? A health hazard? Definitely.

What are all these builders doing about this? NOTHING. Absolutely nothing except building more condos, boutique hotels (some disguised as yoga retreats) and gigantic houses used for AirBnBs, or like my closest neighbor to the north, a so-called Modern Elder Academy

https://www.modernelderacademy.com

More and more and more. It doesn’t stop. Raise your hand if you want to live in a “neighborhood” of hotels, condos, retreats, etc. What’s happening here has already happened in Cabo San Lucas and a lot of other places in Mexico.

There is nothing I can do about it. I have to figure out ways to deal. I’ve been doing a lot better lately, and then all of a sudden I’m not doing better. I might be worse right now than ever. Sad. Depressed. Disgusted. Worried.

This “house” is multi levels and buildings. AirBnB.

This next one is beyond gigantic. I don’t know if you can tell the scale of these from my photos.

There are lots of cars parked all up and down our road from the MEA. This has totally changed the complexion of our neighborhood.

These are just a few of the things going in or recently finished. It just goes on and on. The pounding and sawing and trucks coming and going (and the beeping when they back-up) has been going on consistently for over a year. On Sundays it is so peaceful and quiet like it was a few years ago.

Another shot taken from behind my house.

Like I said, we knew houses would be built. That’s what a neighborhood is, but not hotels, AirBnBs, retreats, and condos. The condos being built as we speak are over the hill from us, and they aren’t the first ones or the last ones being built. The good news about this one in the photo is they have a state of the art sewage treatment and are providing parking for their owners. Also, they are installing a water purification system in each of the 14 units, so no plastic bottles! There are some developers who care about the environment. They are going to repair the road when they’re done and fix the public access to the little beach. All good news! If you have to have development, then these are the kind of people you want doing it.

To end on a happy note, I’ll post some photos of the beach. We are fortunate to have been here for over 10 years, enjoying it while we could. And the beach, while people are building like crazy on the beach and bluffs, all I have to do is turn toward the water and imagine it is like it was before.

Even though this place is exploding, it’s still better than anywhere else.

Isabela and I walk to La Playa Los Cerritos. Greg drives as he wants to get in the water at daybreak before all the other surfers show up.

I throw the ball in the water for Isabela and she loves to swim out for it. The water is warm and inviting. I have on my suit under my clothes just in case I feel like swimming.

There are some birds out looking for food, and I am lucky enough to capture them with my camera.

There are only three surfers out when we get to the beach, and Greg is one of them. Soon there are many more of them. The waves are mostly closed out, but you can’t stop a surfer from going out if there is a chance to catch a wave.

Isabela is really having a great time this morning, and she doesn’t tire of chasing the ball into the water. She shakes the water from herself and goes back for more.

When Greg comes in, I decide it’s my chance to take a quick swim. Just to say I did. It is so warm in the water it is hard to believe it’s Christmas.

What a beautiful morning at the beach.

Wild life used to be staying up past 2AM. But for years now my life has not been that kind of wild. Usually in bed by 9:30PM and up before 5AM is how I roll these days. But I’m enjoying a wild life just the same.

Yesterday we were visited by quite a few tarantula hawks and across the street on fence posts overlooking the Pacific Ocean were three handsome caracaras. Usually you see them farther back in the desert, but apparently they were enjoying the ocean view for awhile in the morning.

Tarantula hawks are found in every continent except Europe and Antartica. In the United States, they are found in the deserts of the southwest. We have them in Baja California Sur where I live.

• While adult tarantula hawks are nectavores and feed on flowers, they get their name because adult females hunt tarantulas as food for their larvae.
• An adult female will paralyze a tarantula with its stinger, and then transport the spider back to the hawk’s nest. Once there, the female lays an egg in the spider’s abdomen, then covers the entrance of the burrow to trap the spider.
• Once the egg hatches, the larvae will feed on the still living spider for several weeks, avoiding vital organs to keep the spider alive until the larvae pupates into an adult wasp.
• Males do not have stingers, but females have a ¼ inch (7mm) stinger. They will not sting unless provoked, but their sting is reported to be the second most painful sting of any insect.
• Roadrunners are one of the few animals that will risk being stung to feed on tarantula hawks.

The caracara are carrion eaters, but they also hunt lizards and snakes. They often share carrion with vultures. The Crested Caracara is a medium-sized, bulky raptor with long legs. Around here they sit on poles like this and trees and cactus (cardon) to get a good look at their surroundings. Having long legs means they are as adept on land as in the air.

I see birds on those fence posts a lot, but this is the first time I’ve seen caracara there.

We never tire of our wild visitors, we can often be found sitting on the deck admiring their antics. Life here at our home in Baja California Sur is satisfying even during a pandemic. We are blessed.

2020 has been such a challenging year for the entire world. It has taught us a lot about others and ourselves. We all cope in different ways. Sometimes we don’t cope at all, and then there is a sunrise on Thanksgiving that gives promise to something greater than ever. Today was a day when one sunrise photo just wasn’t enough. The farther I walked the better it got. I hope you enjoy these as much as I do. Happy Thanksgiving 2020.

It was a lot of fun making all the illustrations and putting them together with my poem. I’m looking for an agent or publisher. Here is the whole book. Let me know what you think. Thank you.

November 1 & 2 Dia de los Muertos is celebrated to honor deceased loved ones. It is not a Mexican version of Halloween. The two traditions are different in so many ways.

See photos and explanation here:

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/destinations/north-america/mexico/top-ten-day-of-dead-mexico/

Today I am honoring my mother, Floy B Nichols-Stephens, who lived to be 103. She was my role model and I love and miss her so much. On this day, I am honoring her with an ofrenda, which is a tradition in Mexico.

The tradition includes flowers, prayers, water for the journey, the deceased’s favorite food, candles, and stories and remembrances of the loved one’s life. It is a celebration rather than mourning.

I still need to get some water and food for this, and one thing she loved was chocolate chip cookies, so I’ll be baking them today.

The last stanza of “On Death” from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gribran

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
     And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

     Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
     And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
     And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. 

Sending you songs of love, Mommy.

More precisely, come into my kitchen (cocina) where I prepared our Prickly Pear Cactus fruit (tuna) into a delicious drink.

In the summer every year our prickly pear cactus shows off all its splendor. First it’s the gorgeous orange flowers and then in late summer the fruit (tuna) come out.

Mostly the birds get them before we do, but this year I was able to get some of them without bird pecked holes in them. Also, the little juancito that lives around here loves to eat all the cactus. They are a burrowing animal that resembles a tiny chipmunk. They are annoying because they are like a little gopher. In fact, the Mexicans we know refer to them as gophers.

I was successful in getting my first batch of these tasty fruits and I felt so excited.

Today was the day I would try to eat them for the first time. The plant itself is about 10 years old, and I’ve had it for 8 years. It has been through a very damaging hurricane (Odile) and it broke a big section. So, we planted the part that broke off right next to what remained, and now we have one gigantic plant (that is really two). The paddles on it are thick, not like the prickly pear cactus you probably have seen. And the spines on this one are so tiny and numerous, and you can hardly see them in your fingers and hands. Ouch. The pads, or nopales, on this plant are huge and fat.

Cactus pads (nopales) are eaten year-round, but it’s only in summer that the fruits reach maturity. Our tuna are deep magenta in color and the outer skin is green until it’s ripe and then it’s red.

We have two other prickly pear plants and they are more like the kind you see in San Diego, CA and in AZ. They put out beautiful yellow flowers. The pads are thinner and have more distinct spines to watch out for. Actually, they are so distinct that I rarely get them in my fingers, as I can see where the darn things are. 

Today I made us two awesome drinks with the fruit (tuna) and lime, water, sugar, and ice in the blender. I made a syrup out of the rest of the juice to save for making more yummy drinks for us.

Wash the tuna. Put them on a platter to dry. 

Slice off the ends and then slice down the center of the fruit, making two halves.

Remove the fruit from the thick skin and put it in the blender.

Blend them well.

Pour through a strainer to get all the juice and throw the blended seeds out.

Pour the strained juice back into the blender to make two glasses (about 2/3 cup of juice) and blend with 4 Mexican limes and 1/3 cup of sugar, 3/4 cup of water, and a whole tray of ice cubes.

Oh my! The heavenly and refreshing drink is our new favorite. Next year we are going to be diligent about getting the fruit before the birds and juancitas get them. If you are lucky enough to have these in your yard, you must try getting the fruit. Wear gloves. Even if you think there aren’t spines, there are. Believe me. Wear gloves.

Let’s Kick the Bums Out!

in our dealings we are cautious
to stand for our democracy
daily news just makes us nauseous
say farewell to the hypocrisy


Let us bring on the clarity
and justice for all citizens
who strive for racial parity
and work for equal privileges


sobered by the many portents
of governing calamity
feeling sick with all the torments
of the POTUS and his vanity

Stand for our Democracy

Let’s Kick the Bums Out!

take the time to show you care

give your time and just declare

earth needs our help

as icebergs melt

and air is choked

and laws revoked

set some lofty goals for her

catastrophe must not occur

be an earth warrior

Do you say you love the sea? Can you be a devotee?

When you visit do you litter? Drive a car that’s an emitter?

Too many plastics we’ve produced, now the oceans need a boost

Don’t know the pain that its been dealt? Don’t know a reason you should help?

Planet Earth–a gift we’re given, how to help we can envision

Let’s be aware, and show we care

BE AN EARTH WARRIOR

My Beach Umbrella

flutters in the breeze

happy as you please

shades me from the sun

making life more fun

Flowers in my Garden

in the sun they flourish

and my soul they nourish

Sunset

Colors of a sunset will sink into the ocean

Music of a quartet that fills me with emotion

That’s all she wrote.

This is a good time to read this poem. It speaks to what is going on in America and other parts of the world, but he wrote it for America. He wrote it for himself. And for you. And for me.

Let America Be America Again

Langston Hughes – 1902-1967

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That’s made America the land it has become.

O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,

And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came

To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?

Surely not me? The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we’ve dreamed

And all the songs we’ve sung

And all the hopes we’ve held

And all the flags we’ve hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

And make America again!