Happy spring equinox, happy Easter, happy Passover, happy Ramadan!

Friends and family can vouch for my lifelong love affair with autumn, a season that has always been special for the way it winds me down, turns me in, and deepens me into wistful melancholy. However, as I near middle age, I admit my loyalties may be shifting. Spring is giving autumn a run for its money.

I used to think that spring was too obvious of a season to like. But perhaps when you’ve lived through a certain number of winters, the fact that anything can come back from a period of decay and darkness and return just as lush and vibrant as before— you cannot help but see it as a miracle. Spring is a miracle. And here in Altadena, we are witnessing the miracle everywhere, from the blooming flowers to the newly-constructed homes. Whatever way you look, even after such incredible loss, there is life returning here.

This week’s comic is based on a run I took yesterday, when I observed this delightful array of occurrences within a 5 mile radius of our home, and all within the span of a single hour. Thank you for giving it an audience. It has been a healing practice to take note of my surroundings in this way, gathering up little miracles to report back to you all.

Off I go again, following these yellow brick roads for as long as they’ll last, in search of whatever wonderful things will next be done.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I think I am something like .0728ths Irish, and as such, I cannot claim any real understanding of the historical or cultural significance of this holiday. I do, however, love St. Patrick’s Day because it’s a day to celebrate the color green— my favorite color.

Have you ever stopped to think about how many different shades of green there are in the world? It’s the color of growth, sure. But it’s also the color of decay. It’s the color of wealth and the color of envy. It’s got a range. It’s versatile. It’s not easy. I love it for that.

Yesterday I was out in the backyard watering the plants, and a flock of green parrots flew out of the neighbor’s orange tree and onto our fence. They are such beautiful birds. Bright, tropical, neon green. But they are also very annoying. Loud, non-native, obnoxious green. (See? The color’s versatile.) Either way, the parrots gave me the idea for this comic. What else is green around here that doesn’t usually get celebrated in the way it deserves?

So today, I’m giving three cheers for garbage cans, folding chairs and tables, and construction fencing. Because when the world is heavy, you’ve gotta go light.

Speaking of, I’m taking a stab at quicker, lighter comics these days with some writing thrown in. I draw so much at work that my hand and eyes get tired. I also miss working with words, so these blogs are an outlet. Thanks for coming along on the journey of my creative experimentation.

It’s not easy being green, but may your day be filled with all the best shades of it.

Friends, thank you for being here. These are heavy times, and I appreciate you staying with me.

When I started this comics series, my intention was to organize, document, and process my personal experience of living through the 2025 Eaton Fire. Through art, I wanted to share with you the specific steps we took to recover, hoping to shed light on the challenges and shortcomings of our disaster management systems. I wanted to ring alarm bells about climate change and public health. I especially wanted to advocate for folks who lost everything, who are still fighting, who are still homeless.

But now, just a short year later, I really can’t keep up. The ongoing recovery of our little foothill town feels stale in comparison to the global atrocities being committed. Every day brings a new headline, a new disaster. Grief piled upon grief. We are all exhausted.

Each time I share about the fire, I fret at length about how tone-deaf it may appear within the context of the day. Can I really write about lead leaching into my citrus fruit, or the cost of replacing all my smoke-damaged furniture, when people are disappearing and bombs are dropping on schools? We are all meant to be hopelessly distracted— it’s part of the strategy, I know. But what really keeps me up at night is the internal conflict of feeling so much despair while simultaneously witnessing so much progress. Is it negligent to hope?

I want so badly to tell about the 750 homes currently under construction now. I want to describe to you how green the hills look, to point out the trees that still stand, draw you pictures of the coyotes and bears and bobcats in our streets. I really want to talk about how good our neighbors are. But set against the backdrop of grief and global darkness, doing so feels naïve, insensitive even. How dare I hope when there is none.

I’ve had a good think on this, believe me. And I’ve come to one conclusion:

I don’t want to hope. I want to bear witness to goodness.

From here, I am going to create this comic series from that place— a place of gentle observation. I will write what I see, whatever brings me joy, or calm, or peace, or even a laugh. If wildflowers are painting the hillsides yellow and green, I am going to tell you about it. If there are migrating birds at our feeder, I’m going to tell you about it. If the local coffee shop reopens, you’d best believe I’m going to tell about it. I’m going to keep these comics shorter, and sweeter, and grounded in the present. Because no matter what else is happening, I believe in telling the truth— and the truth is always relevant.

The events of the Eaton Fire, alongside the concurrent Palisades Fire, affected nearly everyone in Los Angeles to some degree. My story is my own, unique to my personal situation, and as honest as I have lived it. However, I absolutely cannot speak, draw, or write to the experience of losing my home entirely, as thousands of my neighbors did; nor fathom the tragedy suffered by families who lost loved ones. In many cases, these community members continue to live with an unprecedented level of uncertainty, psychological distress, and financial crisis. There are many ways to support those who lost the most, and every donation helps. Here are just a few suggestions:

Eaton Fire Collaborative | Pasadena Community Foundation | Pasadena Educational Foundation | Direct Relief