Lend A Hand
Volunteer Rose trimming at Travelers Ranch with Vita Collective
“What the world needs now is love sweet love,” Hal David, Burt Bacharach recorded by Dionne Warwick
Early on a winter morning, one of those mornings when the air still carries the chill of the season but the promise of warmth, I gather my gardening gloves, wide-brimmed straw hat and head out the door. Just a few miles south of home, I leave the freeway behind and amble along on a bumpy dirt road into the rural countryside.
The morning fog drifts across rolling green hills, lifting and swirling as if the land itself is slowly stretching awake. By the time I arrive at Traveler’s Ranch, the light has softened everything into that quiet, sacred stillness you only find in the country.
Hannah, one of the volunteer organizers from Vita Collective, https://vitacollective.squarespace.com/greets me with a big smile and a pair of well-worn coveralls. Soon more women arrive, ready to prune over one hundred rose bushes scattered across the ranch. We are here to lend a hand for Robert, who reached out to Vita for help when his regular helper left unexpectedly. Over the past couple of years, I’ve had the great pleasure of attending Vita gatherings on this majestic property—poolside yoga retreats where women come together in reflection and connection. Today we’ve returned not as guests, but as volunteers.
As the day unfolds the snip of our clippers blends with the braying of the resident donkey and the distant call of hawks circling high above in a crystal blue sky. It feels less like work and more like a rhythm we’re all sharing—hands busy, conversations flowing.
And it turns out the old saying is true: many hands really do make light work. With all of us working side by side, the job is finished with time left to enjoy Robert’s homemade vegetarian chili and a tray of warm chocolate chip cookies. (I’ll admit—one of those delicious cookies somehow found its way into my pocket to have with my morning’s coffee.)
Soon after our day at the ranch I realized that I wanted to devote the month of February, the so-called “month of love”—to something simple yet powerful: the many ways we can share love by lending a hand, a gesture like giving roses to the ones we love.
While recently listening to a podcast by meditation teacher Tara Brach, https://www.tarabrach.com/ I heard something that stayed with me. She spoke about service as a way to truly connect with one another—how helping others dissolves the illusion that we are separate. When we contribute to something larger than ourselves, she explains, it gladdens the mind with feel good neuro chemicals.
Around Valentine’s Day, I am sitting—as I always do—in the soprano section during rehearsal with the Peace Chorale. Under my chair is a quart mason jar of cream of zucchini soup I cooked up for Nan and her husband.
In our recent conversations I had learned that her husband had fallen and suffered an injury that left him bedridden. Nan had suddenly become his primary caregiver. When rehearsal ends, I offer her the jar. Tears well in her eyes. As she hugs me she says softly,
“This is something big. This means more to me than just the soup.” The following week she returns my jar with small heart-shaped chocolates and a handmade card inside:
“Dear Jeri,
Thank you so much for the luscious soup. It warmed my belly and my heart.”
Shortly afterwards as I lay in my bed before rising for the day another idea emerged and blossomed in my soul.
I went to my computer and typed out a message to Laura, someone I had connected with when I joined as a legacy member of the Land Trust of Santa Cruz County. https://landtrustsantacruz.org/ I asked if there might be an opportunity where I could bring my grandchildren to have a volunteer experience and where we could literally get our hands dirty, small as they may be.
Within days I received a message from Laura introducing me to Kat who sent me this message in return.
“What you’re doing—teaching the next generation about stewardship—is absolutely magical. We would love to have your grandkids volunteer.”
Then, of course, the rains came. Our plans were postponed until March. The love month kept on rolling along and that reminded me that generosity doesn’t live on a calendar. Acts of kindness are always available to us, just like roses that please and delight any time of year.
Last week Kat drives up after the kids get out of school in the Land Trust van. With the warm rays of the sun shining around us and after cheerful greetings, our grandchildren scramble into the back seat alongside their abuelo, Salvador, who also wants to lend a hand.
Our first stop is the Laurel Curve Wildlife Crossing beneath Highway 17. As cars rush overhead on the freeway, we walk quietly through the passageway below—just as the animals do, moving safely from one side of the forest to the other. Kat shows Brielle and Callen photos and charts explaining how the crossing was built. “Since its completion just a year ago, hundreds of animals have been spared from deadly encounters with traffic,” she enthusiastically shares as they soak in her words.
Back in the van, we drive deeper into the forest. Our task for the day is trail-restoration—pulling an invasive plant called French broom. Kat explains that when broom grows too thick along the trail, it can block animals from easily reaching the entrance to the wildlife corridor. Along the path the kids discover a banana slug, several kinds of spiders, and even a few deer that watch us curiously from the forest’s edge. In those small moments of discovery, the wilderness welcomes us into its wonderous world.
Kat tells Brielle and Callen that their work truly matters—that by helping care for this land they are protecting the future of bobcats, deer, mountain lions, skunks, and coyotes. She reminds them that when people take care of the wilderness, it becomes possible for animals and humans to live together in greater harmony, that the work we do today can restore and protect the planet for tomorrow.
As the sun slides behind the hills, we pack up and slowly ride down the mountain, hands a little dirtier, hearts a little fuller. The kids proudly wear stickers that read I Support Wild Things. Our day together eventually comes to an end. But the gladness lives on inside us—a comforting connection of belonging to a wider web of life.
The world changes for the better through the kindness of ordinary days. Women trimming rose bushes, a jar of soup, a child pulling weeds from a trail. Simple moments of generosity reveal the truth, that love grows best when it is shared freely, rooted in community, and carried forward by lending a hand.