Writing a book is an enormous leap of faith, and many times, when mine felt close to running out, I drew on the support of a large community of friends and my family to keep me going. My gratitude goes out to everyone who helped me along the way. First, to the friends who gave me shelter. I owe endless thanks to Somer Huntley and Andy Solomon for use of the house in Whitethorn at the start of the journey. Alicia Skuce generously lent me her apartment in Oakland one summer. For many years, Claudia Schuster’s backroom has been my refuge in San Francisco, and I am eternally grateful for that space and her friendship. Ferren Knickerbocker hosted me in Eureka, and Allison Scott in the East Village. Heather Sarantis and Robert Collier supplied me with a Berkeley office, and their amazing son, Dylan, brightened my writing breaks. Susan Mazur graciously let me write in her Redway yurt. Marcia provided me with the most amazing gift of a house on the beach in Mexico. And heartfelt thanks to Doreen Puentes in Garberville, for the room to rent, and the occasional glass of wine, and encouraging pat on the back.
Jenny Hole, whom I have known for so long, provided constant laughter and pep talks, and made me an honorary aunt to beautiful Stella Lou. I don’t know what I would have done without Brooke Bundgard, who welcomed me to Oakland with love and light, and cheered me on as I raced towards the finish line. Jordan Rosenfeld has followed my path from our walks along I Street, to New York, and back. She graciously read several drafts, encouraged me every step of the way, and sent a writer’s first-aid kit to help me through the final hour. Anya Roberts-Toney also read multiple drafts, cheered me on, and has an eye for detail for which I am incredibly grateful. Jennifer Bleyer was there to talk things through and offered feedback that helped make this a better book. Megan Feldman supported me with her humor, encouragement, and last-minute edits. I look forward to returning the favor.
Thank you to my dad and stepmom, Paul and Kathleen Brady, for use of the Subaru during those rainy winter months, and for carving out a space for me in St. Helena one last time. Thanks to my mom and stepdad, Elizabeth and Greg Schimpf, for their love and support, and for coming north to see the trees with me.
I am infinitely grateful to my agent, Larry Weissman, and his wife, Sascha Alper, for guiding me through this process, and for pushing me to follow the story further than I was comfortable with in the beginning, which helped me discover something all the richer. Immense gratitude to my editor Ben Greenberg, for betting on me in the first place, for suggesting I step out of the story, and for his patience with my over-reporting. Enormous thanks as well to the entire team at Grand Central who helped usher this book into the world: Liz Connor, Erica Warren, Peggy Holm, Caitlin Mulrooney-Lyski, and Jenna Dolan, whose sharp eye helped save me from my mistakes.
In Mexico, muchísimas gracias to the people of Troncones, Guerrero, where the first draft of this book was written. Suzanne and Bob French provided me with many lovely dinners there, and hosted Christmas at their home in Tamasopo. Thank you to the maripositas at the school for sweetening my afternoons, and to Beto for the surf and life lessons.
Of all the people I am indebted to for helping making this book possible, the people of southern Humboldt County are at the top of the list. Many of them graciously invited me into their gardens and lives. Thank you to everyone who took the time to share their stories with me, even if they didn’t end up in these pages. I am grateful to Liz and Charley for the hospitality and kindness when I first arrived. Mikal Jakubal put up with my city-girl ways, endlessly tried to pin the Jell-O to the wall with me, and brought snacks on our bike rides along the Avenue. Marcia was always there to listen and lend support. Susan became like family. Rick and Peter helped me understand the history of the Back-to-the-Land movement. Jeff Hedin taught me to tell the difference between redwood trees and Douglas firs from a distance. Kym Kemp is one of the busiest women I know, but was always graciously willing to take a moment to help me understand the community and place that she holds so dear.
I thank Sergeant Kenny Swithenbank and Sheriff Michael Downey of the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department. I am also incredibly grateful for the magical Holly Sweet, who provided me with a job when I was in need of one, and became my teacher along the way. Thanks to Prescott for the fresh flowers, for the CSA deliveries, and for being such a skillful chauffeur along those treacherous Mexican highways.
And last, but certainly not least, I owe my deepest gratitude to Mare, Emma, Bob, and Crockett. Without their willingness to allow me into their lives, this book would have never been possible. I am grateful to Mare Abidon for her unfaltering optimism and for being willing to stand up for her beliefs. Emma Worldpeace inspired me with her integrity. Bob Hamilton taught me about resilience, and reminded me of the importance of being able to laugh in the face of adversity. I owe a huge debt to Crockett for his openness. The commercial growers were the hardest to access, and without his participation, a crucial part of this tale would have been left untold. While the telling of this story is my own, I hope it honors all of their honesty and trust.