Dear Friends,
As the seasons shift and the tides continue to come in, I write a letter every month about the work and community of Crystal Cove Conservancy. This is where my letters live.
See you around the park.
Learn more about Kate Wheeler, President & CEO of Crystal Cove Conservancy.
August 2026
July 2026
Every summer, our neighbors, the Anslyns, packed their van for the river. Sleeping bags. Flashlights. Folding chairs. A driveway slowly disappearing beneath the checklist of an American summer.
June 2026
Visitors look at the sky this time of year and think: oh, bad luck. Those of us who spend more time here look at the same sky and think in poems: June Gloom. May Gray.
May 2026
There’s a house finch who has been tap tap tapping at my office window. Each keystroke I make is punctuated – tap tap tap.
April 2026
This place takes a minute. The coast doesn’t. The beaches don’t. They arrive fully formed. You see them once and you understand why people fall in love. The rest of it takes longer.
March 2026
I’ve been thinking lately about the boundaries of Crystal Cove State Park. They’re clear on a map. But out in the park, they feel less like edges and more like meeting places.
February 2026
None of this was inevitable. It could have gone another way — many times over. It still can.
January 2026
In January, the signs that get the most attention at Crystal Cove aren’t interpretive or wayfinding signs.