Author: Sheri Baer

Woof! I’m Bennie the Bernedoodle from Burlingame! (Try saying that three times!) I get my distinctive tri-color markings from my mom, who is a full-size Bernese mountain dog, and my smaller stature and no-shed coat from my dad, a miniature white poodle. When Rise and Marty brought me home, they found an easy way to describe my distinctive look: “A fluff ball of cuteness!” I consider every day to be my BEST day ever. I always start my morning with a “wiggle and a wag,” which includes thumping my tail to announce I’m up and ready to play. I quickly follow this with “down dog,” wherein I assume the perfect position to receive cuddles, kisses and hugs. And then I’m up for anything—whether it’s playtime with grandkids in the house, chasing my buddies at the dog park or enthusiastically greeting everyone I see. I also love road trips, especially when we head to Lake Tahoe. Is that my red safety swim vest coming out? That means it’s time for a boat ride! I always sit perched up front, and as we pick up speed, I relish the feeling of my ears blowing back in the wind. Every best day of my life ends the same way: lots of brushing. First, soft bristles gently tug through any tangles and mats—and then I lick my lips in anticipation. Doggie toothpaste is just so tasty! And it’s with fresh breath and a sparkling smile that I bid you sweet dreams. I need to rest up for my next BEST day… tomorrow.

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Kate Daly

When you hear the name Putnam you may immediately think about the block of car dealerships on Burlingame’s Auto Row, but the family is actually rooted in generations of farming—a tradition that continues on the Peninsula today.

Now in his late 80s, patriarch Joe Putnam lives on Woodside’s 14-acre Mission Farm, surrounded by crops, an orchard, horses and chickens. His daughter, Lisa Putnam, runs the farm with the help of one caretaker and 10 volunteer gardeners. They planted corn last spring so Joe could see it out his window and advise them as usual.

Joe was a sharecropper in a little town near Gregory, South Dakota, when he met and married a farmer’s daughter, his late wife, Mary Lou. He started selling cars to support their young brood of six kids, and when he heard about a car dealership for sale in Burlingame, he flew out to see it. Back in 1965, the family could only afford one airplane ticket, so when the decision was made to move west, the rest of the family followed by train.

“Idyllic” is how Lisa describes her childhood. “We all rode horses, went to Woodside Elementary School and there wasn’t such a thing as homework,” she recounts. With a pack of friends, she used to gallop all over Guernsey Field (since renamed The Horse Park at Woodside) and raise steers, lambs and chickens for 4-H. Although neighbors owned businesses such as a carpet or alarm store, above all, she says, “They were people who liked land, who liked horses.”

As Lisa tells it, her father was so into horses that he bought property on Mission Trail and built a barn, a riding arena and a covered arena. “My dad spent all of his time riding,” she says, “so my mom said, ‘I’m never going to see you unless I build a house where the barn is,’ so they did.”

That was about 35 years ago. By then, the kids had already left home. After graduating from Notre Dame High School, Lisa earned a B.S. in Agricultural Economics from UC Davis. While living in Sacramento, she studied to become a UC Master Gardener like her mother and two aunts, who had grown up on a farm without electricity or running water. Although they already knew some basics, they wanted to learn more. With its mission “to extend research-based knowledge and information on home horticulture, pest management and sustainable landscape practices,” the University of California program provided that opportunity.

Lisa remembers being given hand-pruners as a little kid. Told to deadhead roses, she quickly became adept at cutting away withered blooms. “My mother always had a vegetable garden, always had way too much of something such as beets and tomatoes and shared it,” she smiles. And indeed, sharing endures as one of the main motivators for Lisa’s gardening passion. Each week, her team of gardeners harvests the farm’s produce and drops it off at local food banks including St. Francis Center in Redwood City and San Mateo’s Samaritan House.

Most of Mission Farm’s gardeners are Master Gardeners, and “all are converts” to Lisa’s way of doing things. “It’s a community,” she says. “Everyone shows up with smiles on our faces. We enjoy each other so much and love what we’re doing.” They often experiment with different approaches like using twine in one row and cages in the next to see which way supports plants better. They grow everything organically from seeds, utilize no fertilizers and compost three times a year. Instead of pulling weeds, they chop them off at the base and drop them on the ground to nourish the microbes in the soil. Planting cover crops and not tilling helps keep carbon in the soil.

Lisa continues her own education by attending seminars with various soils experts, and credits fellow Master Gardener Terry Lyngso, president of Lyngso Garden Materials, for being an innovative leader. They studied together when Lisa retook the program in the Bay Area. Lisa and her sister, Kathleen, also a Master Gardener, regularly teach classes at Lyngso and talk to groups about soil health and best practices.

When their mother was battling cancer in 2007, Lisa relocated to the Woodside property with her husband, Bruce Carlsmith, and their two young children. The family stayed for 10 years and got the farm going, selling produce at a stand on Cañada Road. Half of the proceeds went towards the kids’ college funds, the other half to the St. Francis Center. When the family moved to Portola Valley, Lisa started her own vegetable garden and took a five-year break from Mission Farm. In May 2022, she returned to help ramp up production—and marvels that the transformation from “weed patch” to “spectacular” took about three months.

This fall, Lisa expects to harvest pumpkins, cucumbers, eggplants, beans and zucchinis. With the coming of September, her attention shifts to getting all of her winter crops planted before winter weather sets in. She stops watering the tomatoes and puts seeds in the ground to grow kale, broccoli, cauliflower, beets, spinach and sugar snap peas.

In past years, Lisa helped out at her children’s school gardens at Woodside Elementary and Woodside Priory. Now, when she’s not farming or teaching, she works part-time with her husband, specializing in real estate development, subdivided land and managing apartments in Sacramento and Tracy.

It’s clear, though, that Lisa’s first passion is for working the soil. Even if it means worrying about wild bunnies ravaging her peppers or leaf curl afflicting her peach trees, she’s already thinking about natural solutions to those problems and the next potential challenge.

Carrying on the family’s automotive legacy, her younger brother, Kent, who was in diapers for the train ride west, manages eight Putnam franchises. Still, “He has an amazing garden and huge orchard,” Lisa points out, just a couple of miles from Mission Farm. “He wants us to farm there and has been building up the soil—we are all farmers at heart!”

A San Mateo County park ranger shares Fitzgerald Marine Reserve’s elusive equivalent of Bigfoot, what was great about growing up in San Mateo and his favorite weird sea critter fact.

What motivated you to become a ranger?
Yogi bear! I wanted to talk to the animals when I was a kid. [Laughs.] I have always spent time in the wild…traveling, hiking, camping, exploring the desert and mountains. For me, communicating nature observations is a dream job. I have worked in the tech sector, but once I explored the natural world professionally, I realized it’s where I’m happiest.

Where did you grow up and what was great about it?
San Mateo, on a cul-de-sac. It was so lively with kids. We were always outside—playing capture the flag, climbing trees and even light poles! Riding my bike across the bridge on Hillsdale Boulevard into Foster City was like a monumental road trip for an eight-year-old!

Do you have a favorite season at Fitzgerald Marine Reserve?
Spring pupping season! There is so much activity in the pinniped population with seal pups being born into the sea world. Sometimes we have over 175 animals on the main beach congregating and finding mates.

Most people turn to nature as an escape from their jobs. What’s your outlet when you need a break?
Movies and music! I enjoy the creative process. I love recording my own songs and enjoy watching independent cinema and quality films online.

What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?
Silkworms. A crunchy treat in southeast Asia.

What’s guaranteed to make you laugh?
Nextdoor.

What are some pro tips for tide pooling?
The best tides are minus low tides, which means anything below 0. Wear decent shoes. Find a pool and be still. Let the animals reveal themselves. They are often very small but have big personalities.

What do you collect?
Random souvenirs from odd places…like trilobites and gemstones from the Great Basin and shot glasses and shark teeth from Baja. Things that remind me of a place in time.

What’s your favorite weird sea critter fact?
Some species of sea slugs (nudibranchs) can feast on an anemone and repurpose the stinging cells, called nematocysts, to defend themselves from other critters by firing them from their cerata, which are finger-like organs on their backs!

What age would you choose to be again and why?
23, I was living in Australia on a true adventure in manifesting myself and living a free spirit lifestyle.

What’s the Fitzgerald Marine Reserve equivalent of Bigfoot?
The Sunflower Sea Star, which is a large 24-rayed vivid animal. Once very common, they vanished 10 years ago due to a disease called sea star wasting syndrome. Occasionally, someone thinks they see a very small one, which is almost always a six-rayed star. Let us know if you ever spot one!

Words by Dylan Lanier

Ever wonder why Stanford University is also called “The Farm”? A vital clue can be found in the rare remaining relic known as the Stanford Red Barn. Among his many holdings, Leland Stanford bought Mayfield Grange, a 650-acre farm located along San Francisquito Creek, in 1876. Over the next 10 years, Stanford expanded the property by over 7,000 acres. On this sprawling estate stood the Palo Alto Stock Farm, which once boasted 150 workers and 600 horses. Built between 1878 and 1880, the Red Barn served as the training stable for the farm, where Stanford bred and raised horses. It was here that Eadweard Muybridge famously compiled the first-ever stop-motion film of a horse circling a track to prove whether or not it had all four hooves aloft while running.

Following Leland Stanford Junior’s death in 1884, the Stanford family entrusted portions of land, including the Stock Farm, to the trustees to found Stanford University. The farm eventually closed in 1903, and only two original buildings remain today. The Red Barn was reopened by Stanford President Donald Tressider in 1946, and the University ceded daily operations to the Equestrian Associates between 1984 and 2004. After a John Arrillaga family-funded renovation in 2005, which included expansion and modernization of the riding arenas, Stanford resumed direct management. The Red Barn now hosts the Stanford Red Barn Equestrian Center, the award-winning Stanford Equestrian Team and their affiliated programs.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Ever been out for a neighborhood stroll and pondered what lies beyond those rows of backyard fences? Maybe it’s something predictable like a hammock or a hot tub—then again, maybe it’s an entire miniature world.
Richard Murray is one of the kingdom keepers. In his Millbrae yard, the sun-tanned octogenarian strides along an extensive garden railroad bordered by Lilliputian-sized structures—a saw mill, a machine shop, a mountain lodge, a gold mine. “If you take your eye off the engine for five to ten seconds, the engine is gone,” Richard remarks, as he gestures to 550 elaborative feet of track, which weaves and wanders around clumps of bonsai trees, skirts mini-mountains and ducks in and out of tunnels. “You have to go looking for it.”

It’s quiet here today—your ear will pick up the puffing of a 2-8-0 steam engine joined by the burbling of a miniature waterfall and the occasional sucking sounds of a koi slurping bits of algae from the pond—but railroading for Richard is far from a solitary pursuit. He plays an active role in the Mid-Peninsula chapter of the Bay Area Garden Railway Society (BAGRS), the largest garden railway society in North America with several hundred members. “It’s one of the friendliest clubs I’ve ever joined,” Richard says. “Requirements are that you love trains.”

Train Club

Richard found his way to BAGRS after retiring from dentistry. “Pretty much any hobby, you should join a club,” he holds. “There is a wealth of information within any club. You don’t have to discover how the wheel works. It’s already been discovered. Just ask.”

Because of their multifaceted attributes, garden railroads can be a massive undertaking for anyone trying to build on their own. “You need to be a landscaper. You need to be a planner. You need to be a plumber. You need to be an electrician,” explains Richard.

The persistence and perspiration required for his own pièce de résistance—from the boulders stacked into proud peaks to the teeny-tiny lettering painstakingly hand-painted on the storefronts—is almost unfathomable. “It’s time-consuming. It takes hard work and imagination. Not everybody has each of those qualities,” he points out. But each member has their own expertise to lend. In fact, Richard credits his koi pond and waterfall to another’s handy skill set. “There’s probably a thousand feet of plumbing out here,” he surmises.

Some members specialize in electronics, while others break out lathes, drills and welders to build locomotives from scratch. Richard is a bit of a bridge guy. His most elaborate build, an almost nine-foot model of Hell’s Gate Bridge in New York City with intricate stone abutments, took him 1,000 hours of labor to complete. On the far side of the garden resides a replica of the famous cantilever bridge featured in the 1957 war film The Bridge on the River Kwai (which Richard designed after close analysis of the movie’s promo poster).

He’s also quite the garden guru. Richard’s plant-forward track shows off his membership in another organization: the Kusamura Bonsai Club. Around 300 shapely bonsai lie along the railroad’s verdant topography. “This is probably a garden that happens to have a railroad,” Richard reflects. “I think the garden still takes precedence.”

About a third of BAGRS opts for “live steam” locomotives, Richard among them. He did give electric engines a try, but… “I’d put a chair out here, watch them go around, and within a half hour I’d be sleeping,” he recalls with a chuckle. “You never get tired with steam engines. You never know what’s gonna happen next because they’re so individualistic. Two engines—the exact same model from the exact same manufacturer—might work differently… They’re all handmade. They’re gonna be different.” It could come down to a different guy on the assembly line or a dull drill, Richard says. “Some may start more easily. Some may just be ornery.”

Scaled to Size

Richard steps past one of his trackside towns replete with sheriff’s office, bank, church and general store. Over his garden wall, a real-life golf course spills across the distant hills. Far-off golfers in their carts seem to-size with the plastic citizens of Richard’s realm, eliciting a sense of surrealism.

“Scale is very important,” Richard notes, bending to adjust a bowler-hatted gentleman. “When I first started, I said, ‘Whether it’s this height or this height, it’ll be fine. Yeah… It’s not. It sticks out like a sore thumb.” He now tries to keep the populace to three inches in height. No six-inch giants here.

It seems the monster-sized rats, moles and squirrels haven’t gotten the memo. “We have had lots of varmints,” laments Richard, who says the pesky rodents leave holes in the ground and dine on his plants. For BAGRS members, it’s an annoyance that comes with the territory. Far from defenseless, Richard uses an electric fence and a rat trap to keep invaders at bay.

He’s also had to fend for the koi—and blue herons, though majestic, have proven quite the foe. “I saw one of those big birds flying away, and I said, ‘I know what that bird does. I hope he didn’t stop at my yard.’ I come in and we’re one or two fish short.” Deepening the once “soup bowl-shaped’ pond has helped—especially with raccoons who dip long, agile fingers into the shallows to scoop out fishy delicacies.

Train Talk

But what’s the point of an exhaustive labor of love if you can’t share it? Each month, when the weather is good, a handful of BAGRS members in a particular geographical region will open their railroads for a club meetup (or “steamup”). “Really, one of the reasons for the open houses is not just to show off the layouts, but for people to gather, socialize, meet with friends that perhaps you haven’t seen for a while,” Richard says. “It recharges you to be amongst friends with like minds.”

Beyond its monthly gatherings, BAGRS hosts an Annual Membership Meeting. It’s an all-day affair with breakfast and multiple members giving talks on everything from historical railroads on the West Coast to Walt Disney’s fascination with model trains.

But the Big One happens every five or so years when the club hosts the National Garden Railway Convention. This summer, nearly 1,000 attendees (some international) convened for dozens of talks, access to operating layouts and railroad supply vendors, opportunities to hop aboard the Napa Valley Wine Train and Roaring Camp Train and open invites to more than 60 backyard garden railways stretching from Sonoma to Santa Cruz. “We’re the ones oftentimes who do the national conventions because we are one of the biggest and most active railroad clubs in the United States,” Richard explains.

Dream in Steam

These days, Richard spends the majority of his track time pruning plants and performing a slew of groundskeeping activities. “It’s a full-time job!” he notes. Though the project is never fully finalized, he speaks wistfully of the years he toiled to actualize the layout.

“I was building it so I could run engines, play with the railroads, but frankly what I didn’t realize at the time is that it’s actually more fun to build things,” he muses. “Building the railroad required a lot of sweat, a lot of money, a lot of time. But it was thoroughly enjoyable. And I remember many of the moments—I treasure them.”

He’s clearly come a long way from the Lionel track that once ran a simple circuit around his childhood Christmas tree. But no matter the scope, time with locomotives always triggers nostalgia. “It brings out the kid in all of us,” Richard reflects, as his eyes come to rest on an itty-bitty boat, docked and waiting to launch into the pond where whale-sized koi swim.

Garden Railways Take Different Routes
by BAGRS President Mick Spilsbury

+ Era: Many garden railroads recapture the age of steam. Others operate modern diesel equipment.
+ Size: Some take over an entire yard with hundreds of feet of track. Others are limited to a section of a yard.
+ Complexity: This varies a lot. A few are built for elaborate switching operations. Some are built for simple watch-while-having-an-adult-beverage operation!
+ Power: Locos use power from the tracks or on-board battery power. Still others are live steamers, burning butane or coal.
+ Detailing: Some are highly detailed with many buildings, figures, animals and all manner of smaller trackside details. Others focus on operations. Some garden railroaders build locos from scratch, but most are purchased ready to run (though often customized in some way). 
+ Plants: Some garden railroaders focus on plants; some don’t. Many railroads feature miniature plants, some carefully trimmed to look like scale trees. 
+ Sounds: Most have locos with sound on board. Others feature trackside sounds including animal sounds, music or even mine operations.
+ Lighting: Many have elaborate lighting for night operations but not all.
+ Realism: Some model an actual railroad while many are the product of the owner’s imagination, with backstories to match.

chuga chuga chuga – bagrs.org

I was born in a public pound in South Korea and came to the Peninsula through @princedogkorea, a rescue organization that saves pups from overcrowded shelters and neglect. When I first arrived in Menlo Park in 2021, I felt really lost—and it wasn’t just because I didn’t understand the language. I also didn’t comprehend the meaning of “love” and “home.” Thankfully, ever-so-patient Gabriella gave me the care and space I needed to settle in. (It took me eight months to figure out that an outstretched hand can be a positive thing: treat!) I’m still a bit shy and fearful around people, but I let my guard down completely around my pals, which include my cat housemate Lola, my bestie Kaida and my dog mom Marge, also a Jindo mix, who was adopted by a family just a few blocks away. Seeing that my personality comes out when I play, Gabriella recently pulled off a big surprise. In June, she rescued another Jindo mix from Korea to be my dedicated fur buddy. “Riley doesn’t really fit the mold of what most people think a dog should be,” I’ve heard her say, “but I love her like crazy, and I’m just trying to give her the best life possible!”

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Now marking 22 years at Woodside’s iconic Michelin-star restaurant, Village Pub’s lead server shares her go-to comfort food, her crazy step count during a typical shift and a cherished encounter with the star of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

What’s the secret to delivering a memorable fine
dining experience?
Honestly, there’s no secret or substitute. It’s constant dedication and a ton of hard work. It may sound clichéd, but paying attention is critical. Every member of our team commits themselves every day to being 1% better than the day before.

What guided you towards the hospitality industry?
It runs in my blood! My mom and grandmother used to have really elaborate dinner parties, and me and my three sisters would get dressed up and host and run drinks and food. It sounds adorable, but we really learned so much.

What’s your go-to comfort food?
Nachos.

What’s your personal motto?
Do what you love and be the best at it.

How has the fine dining experience evolved over
the years?
It’s like an antique luxury car—I would imagine they’re always in the shop, with very fine adjustments being made all the time. I am happy to see that the scene is less serious now, and that guests seem more and more about being comfortable and just having a great time.

What’s your favorite type of exercise?
Hiking. I love being out in nature—it’s so grounding.

What’s a movie you could watch over and over?
Midnight in Paris or The Grand Budapest Hotel. Both are so beautiful and full of magic.

What TV show are you most embarrassed to admit you watch?
Everything on Bravo. Andy Cohen is my spirit animal!

How many steps do you take during an average shift?
Not sure, but I’d say between 10 to 15K. I really should start recording that…

What’s something people are surprised to learn about you?
That my husband is shorter than me. (I’ve always listed my height as 5 feet, 13 inches.)

How do you unwind after a long day?
MEZCAL! Well, it usually starts with an adult beverage, but just being home, in our own space, makes me feel a million miles away from everything. My man and I also love cooking at home.

What do you enjoy the most about your work?
Look, I make a good living, and that’s awesome, but the best part about what I do is knowing that for the two hours you’re in my section, you’re going to have an extraordinarily memorable experience.

Favorite celebrity encounter?
Paul Newman. He said, “Young lady, go ahead and order for me.” I chose the roast chicken. He was so kind—and he kissed me on the cheek!

Is E.T. phoning home? Some believe that “The Dish,” a hulking radio telescope in the Stanford foothills, was built to search the cosmos for signs of life. Although the history of Stanford’s Dish includes no alien communication, it nevertheless boasts an exciting saga filled with foreign espionage and interstellar rescue. In 1958, threatened by the Russian launch of Sputnik I, the Department of Defense commissioned the Dish’s construction after Stanford scientists submitted a proposal outlining its ability to spot enemy aircraft and the atmospheric impacts of nuclear explosions. After its completion in 1961, researchers could investigate our ionosphere and a local defense contractor listened in on Soviet signals bouncing off the moon.

However, under the near-complete control of the Stanford Research Institute, the device became much more than a Cold War spy machine. It measured electron content during the 1963 total solar eclipse, communicated with multiple NASA satellites and even helped map Venus’ atmosphere by sending signals to the Mariner probe. Unfortunately, radio interference in the surrounding Bay Area and NASA’s increasing frequencies of communication reduced the Dish’s functionality, and some even believed the university might sell it. Then in 1982, the underestimated apparatus made headlines after SRI scientists used it to save Britain’s malfunctioning satellite OSCAR 9 by sending a signal powerful enough to shut off its haywire transmitters. Twelve years later, workers were lowering the Dish’s humongous tripod when its cables snapped and it nose-dived to the ground. It took four months for the structure to be repaired and improved. Today, references to “The Dish” typically mean the 3.5-mile adjacent trail enjoyed by over 500,000 people each year—but the structure to which it owes its name still performs a variety of functions including satellite calibrations and spacecraft command. Sounds like E.T. might be sent to voicemail!

Words by Dylan Lanier

If walls could talk, Burlingame’s Kohl Mansion would chat your ear right off! Completed in 1914, the 40-acre estate—also known as The Oaks—was the country home of Frederick Kohl, heir to the lucrative Alaska Commercial Company, and his second wife, Bessie. Accustomed to a lavish lifestyle, the couple threw extravagant Peninsula high-society parties, but Kohl struggled with depression and family scandal. They separated after two years in the house, and Kohl moved into San Francisco’s St. Francis Hotel. Caretakers maintained the property after he took up with a new mistress, Marion Louderback Lord. Tragically, Kohl took his own life in 1921, leaving the estate to Mrs. Lord. During this period in limbo, the mansion served as the set for Little Lord Fauntleroy, a silent film starring the iconic Mary Pickford. In 1924, the Sisters of Mercy bought the mansion and turned it into their convent. Seven years later, the sisters opened Mercy High School with 36 students. By the 1950s, the expanding enrollment called for a new wing with additional classrooms and a cafeteria. The property made yet another Hollywood appearance in Flubber, a sci-fi comedy remake in which Robin Williams plays a brilliant but befuddled inventor who chases green sentient goo around the premises. Today, the property remains both a private all-girls high school and a popular event venue for weddings and other celebrations. Music at Kohl Mansion also uses the Great Hall, providing chamber music to appreciative listeners since 1984. Guests seem undeterred by rumors of a spooky spectral presence haunting the mansion since Kohl’s untimely death. While his presence from beyond the grave may be disputed, everyone agrees that if he has returned in spectral form, he’s probably just enjoying the party!

Words by Bob Siegel

Largely hidden from view, but easily accessible, the Arizona Garden is a floristic and photographic gem on the Stanford campus. Filled with flamboyant flowers in a vivid palette of colors, with points and swirls, weird shapes and curious symmetries out of some Seussian dream, the garden is a wonderful spot for an early morning photo shoot, a midday picnic with a friend or an afternoon contemplation.

Fence lizards, rabbits and squirrels scurry among the undergrowth. Perching birds and woodpeckers flit and chirp among the trees, and hummingbirds steal cactus threads to line their tiny nests. A redtail hawk calls nearby. A closer look reveals a multitude of insects and other small creatures pollinating the flowers, priming the soil and seeking safe haven.
A series of symmetrical paths demark the individual beds. In addition to myriad species of cactus, there are many other botanical curiosities—yuccas and agaves, aloes and jade plants, silk floss and coral trees, aeonium and spurge, palo verde and a boojum tree.

Predating the University, the garden was designed by landscape architect Rudolph Ulrich in the early 1880s. Although the name evokes our neighboring state, Arizona Garden refers to the drought-tolerant plants that are found there. Indeed, while some of the plants are native to the state of Arizona, others come from distant continents with similar climes. For much of the 1900s, the garden fell into disrepair. Restoration in the 1990s continuing to the present has revived the garden to its current vibrancy. Arizona Garden coordinator Christy Smith works hard to maintain the garden with the help of students and community volunteers.

For those who have more time, the Stanford Mausoleum, Angel of Grief statue, Stanford Arboretum and Cantor Museum are other nearby points of interest. Even a short stop at the garden is worthwhile. So, come wander… and take in all the wonders.

With its array of strange textures and alluring colors, the Arizona Garden is a great place for writers, artists and photographers to practice their craft. The garden is a frequent backdrop for family photos as well as wedding and graduation portraits.

The different shapes and forms in the garden reflect a variety of adaptations to arid or xeric environments. Unlike the cactus family (Cactaceae), whose spines are degenerate leaves, plants in the agave (Asparagaceae) and stonecrop (Crassulaceae) families—depicted here—have fleshy, compact leaves to minimize water loss.

In the garden, various tribes within the cactus family can be distinguished by their shapes. The red color adorning the house finch seems to mimic certain cactus flowers. The endangered golden barrel cactus (opposite) is sardonically described as “Mother-in-Law’s Cushion.”

While many of the plants “make a point” of keeping herbivores at bay, the garden provides a home for birds, insects and other small creatures. In the case of Anna’s hummingbird and the Valley carpenter bee, there is mutual benefit with the plants providing pollination in exchange for nourishment and nesting materials.

In addition to being a microbiology and immunology professor at Stanford,
Robert David Siegel is a docent and avid wildlife photographer who teaches
courses in photographing nature. web.stanford.edu/~siegelr/photo

Words by Johanna Harlow

It’s August 2022 at Linda Mar Beach, and a surfing competition is underway. Unlike your typical championship, however, the contestants are short, hairy and answer to unintimidating names like Teddy and Waffles. All perfectly normal at Pacifica’s World Dog Surfing Championships, where sea-savvy canines take to the waves to lick the competition.

Quite the crowd has gathered to see kelpies and corgis hang ten. Plenty of NorCal canines compete in the event, but contestants fly in from as far away as Brazil and Australia. Organized by TasteTV, the annual event has attracted the best in dog surfing talent since 2016.

Scoping out the competition with mismatched eyes is Skyler of Santa Cruz—and beside the Queensland heeler stands owner Homer Henard. “She doesn’t like swimming in the water. I think that’s why she surfs so good,” Homer chuckles.

Homer and Skyler surfing tandem

On board since she was a puppy, Skyler has surfed for 13 years now. “It kind of became her thing,” Homer explains. “Cattle dogs feel like they need a job.” Rather than go into the family business (working the ranch like her parents), Skyler opted to master the waves. She prefers her custom-made hardboard with traction crafted by Bob Pearson, one of the top shapers in the world. “The ocean is her dog park,” says Homer.

Between heats, Skyler retires to her tent to meet her many fans. “The groupies take pictures with her,” remarks Homer. Holding the title as the first dog to ever get barreled (cruising through a watery tube) and featured on an episode of Netflix’s show Pet Stars, Skyler has gained nearly 34,000 followers on Instagram (follow her exploits at @skylerthesurfingdog).

“Skyler’s huge in the UK,” Homer notes. “They always have crews coming over here and they’ll come and interview us and video us surfing.” She is also well-known for her volunteer work, partnering with surf-therapy organizations like Waves of Impact, Operation Surf and Mauli Ola Foundation to encourage kids with disabilities and wounded veterans to take to the waves. “They’re like, ‘If this dog can do it, I can do it too!’” Homer shares with a smile.

Back on the beach in Pacifica, owners continue to wade into the water with pups in tow. Responsible for setting up their dogs for success, they will need to select the perfect swell. Too small and your Lab will be fated for a lackluster performance, too big and your whippet will wipe out. Thankfully, life vests are on hand (or over tail) to keep dunked competitors buoyed. Human spotters stand by to ensure safety. “These dogs are stoked,” Homer observes. “You can’t make a dog surf. If a dog doesn’t like the ocean, it’ll run away.”

On shore, judges score based on ride length, technique and bonus tricks. They also take demeanor into account. (Is the dog calm or panicky?) Skyler’s unruffled assurance and confident stance have always served her well. During a prestigious competition at Huntington Beach, she once scored two perfect tens—the first to do so in the event’s history. “She’s leaning into the turns and is reading the wave,” Homer describes. “She’ll lift up one paw to go on rail in one direction and then she’ll put the other paw up to go the other way.”

What’s better than a dog on a board? Several dogs on a board! The competition heats up when the announcer broadcasts dog-dog tandem rides. As pooch pals team up in groups of twos and threes, the chaos mounts and more than one pack is dumped into the soup. Photographers (some of them international) heft cameras with lenses like mini cannons. Several wade into the waves in wetsuits.

Clearly, the surfing dog scene is no joke. Homer vividly recalls showing up to his first competition all those years ago. “People were serious about it. They had full pit crews… It was nuts! Dogs had outfit changes.” Elaborating, he adds, “A lot of the dogs are glamoured out. They wear sunglasses. They’ve got gold chains and leather jackets. And you’re like, ‘Whoa!’”

That said, the canine camaraderie is evident. “They don’t get all weird and standoffish,” Homer observes. Skyler and her bulldog buddy Rothstein will surf tandem today. The two often meet up for surf dates. “His owner John wants Rothstein to hang out with Skyler because Skyler’s like the Gerry Lopez of dog surfing, you know what I mean?” Homer grins. “He wants her to rub off on him.” Rothstein was jumping on boards long before John, but Homer has recently given John lessons so he can keep up.

Next on the doggy docket: man and man’s best friend. One regular tandem duo taking the board together is Kentucky and Derby (guess which one’s the dog and which one’s the human). Owner and goldendoodle cruise on in wearing sunglasses and matching blue mohawks. Next comes a scrappy youngster and his pit bull, both clad in neon green. And then a well-built old-timer with his stocky Lab. For his own ride with Skyler, Homer flips up an umbrella, “doing the Mary Poppins.” The crowd eats it up.

The day’s festivities also include “Yappy Hour” as well as a fetch competition and a pet fashion contest (meaning you might sight a Frenchie in a coconut bra or a Chihuahua with a mermaid tail).

As the festivities wrap up, Homer and Skyler win gold in both the solo and dog/human tandem rides. “The dogs know,” Homer says. There’s no doubt that Skyler lights up as the medal is placed around her neck to cheers from the spectators. “She comes home and she’s got a little pep in her step,” notes Homer. Skyler knows there’s a celebratory McDonald’s ice cream cone and steak dinner in her near future, which doesn’t hurt either.

Cheer on the Underdog

2023 Dog Surfing Championships
Linda Mar Beach, Pacifica
August 5, 9AM - 12:30PM
www.surfdogchampionships.com

Words by Sheri Baer

From her home perched above San Carlos, Bonnie Regalia raves about the view. But it’s not the expansive vista out to the Bay you’d expect. “We look to the Western hills, which is much more pleasing,” she explains. “It’s woodsy, it’s outdoors. It’s more of what I’m about: nature.”

Most of all, Bonnie’s backyard provides a dynamic spectacle she never tires of watching. She’ll spot chestnut-backed chickadees with their dark caps and white cheeks and listen for the repetitive chatter-like call of the oak titmouse. She delights in finches (American gold, lesser gold and house), which are flockers. “If you get one finch, you’ll get 12,” smiles Bonnie. Then there are the migratory visitors like orioles and cedar wax wings, which “look like they’re individually painted!” And, of course, the hummingbirds—the black-chinned and Allen’s that zip through in the spring and summer as well as the stunning Anna’s, which provide entertainment year-round.

Image by Annie Barnett / Cover Image by Rick Morris

“The show is continually changing,” she remarks. “This is one of the greatest places to bird in the United States because we’ve got everything.”

Bonnie’s passion for backyard birding isn’t just a hobby—it’s also her profession. As the longtime owner of Birder’s Garden in San Carlos, she takes pride in running a one-stop shop for Peninsula backyard bird and wildlife lovers. Along with providing expert advice, Bonnie stocks seed especially selected for local birds, houses, nesting boxes, feeders, bird baths… and every imaginable accoutrement for creating feather-friendly habitats. Located on El Camino Real with an additional back alley entrance, Bonnie notes that there is no natural foot traffic on her block. “We have to be good enough at what we do to make it a destination,” she says. “People have to want to come here.”

Bonnie traces her own path to the Birder’s Garden back to the shores of Lake Michigan. With family roots in farming and agriculture, she reveled in a childhood grounded in nature. “It was kind of like living in the Farmers’ Almanac,” she reflects. “We’d say, ‘There’s the first robin—spring’s coming!’ or ‘The migratory birds are going out—winter’s coming.’ If a storm was coming in, the lake seagulls would move inshore. We watched and talked about these things.”

Image by Rick Morris

After a Michigan childhood friend graduated from Stanford in 1968, Bonnie came out to visit—which inspired her own western migration the next year. She took a job with Carnes Piano in Palo Alto, before moving into accounting work for Silicon Valley startups. In 1996, divorced with two daughters, Bonnie read in a Wild Bird Center newsletter that the San Carlos backyard birding store was for sale. “My philosophy is that there are no coincidences in life,” she says. With support from the previous owners, the Small Business Administration and Wild Bird Centers of America, she swooped into the retail world with a resolute mindset: “I don’t do, ‘What if?’ ‘What if it doesn’t go well?’ Well, you’ll figure it out.”

Given that nearly a quarter-century has passed, Bonnie certainly did. Rather than a mom-and-pop, she became the successful proprietor of a single-mom brick and mortar. In the early years, her daughters would join her after school. “They’d help in the store and they’d start their homework. And then we’d all go home for dinner,” she recounts. “It really was meant to be.”

Image by Rick Morris

When the Wild Bird franchise agreement expired in 2006, Bonnie continued to operate independently under the new name, “Birder’s Garden.” An aptly descriptive moniker, the store invokes an all-things-that-flap-their-wings oasis. Enter from the back alley and you’ll pass through stacked rows of seed—in nearly 20 varieties, with bag sizes ranging from 5 to 50 pounds. (Birder’s Garden delivers to the entire Peninsula including the coast.) Will it be Backyard Basic, Songbird or Finch Blend? Dove & Quail or Nyjer Thistle? “There’s four and a half tons of seed here,” comments Bonnie. “And I have another half a ton coming in this morning. We sell three to five tons every week.”

“The mealworm came in,” calls out Caroline Spinali, who provides a steady staffing presence in the store. Bonnie nods in acknowledgement as she passes hanging displays of multi-shaped bird houses, hummingbird feeders and racks of hooks, poles and baffles. Bonnie realizes that the menagerie of avian-related products can be overwhelming. That’s where the education component comes in. Bonnie sees every customer interaction as an opportunity to impart knowledge and accurate information.

Image by Annie Barnett

“The backyard birding industry basically started on the East Coast,” she reveals, “and they still don’t recognize that not everything applies to the West Coast.” Not only does she rewrite and localize brochures, she also evaluates every item before offering it for sale. She gestures to a cast-off feeder sitting in her office. “I would never put that on my floor,” she says. “The squirrels are going to eat the plastic, and the plastic portals are going to come out of that in the first week.” Conversely, she points to a western bluebird box that earned her stamp of approval. “I had input into this,” she shares. “It has a longer roof and right-sized hole. It’s also protected so that a predator can’t get into it.”

After decades in the business, Bonnie appreciates the common values she shares with her customers. “They’re my people,” she observes. “We all care about nature. We all care about taking care of the environment.” For Bonnie, that means supporting and bolstering our Peninsula habitat. “What do you need in your yard? Native plants,” she advises. “Let things grow.” Citing factors like seasonal scarcity and tree removal, she views Birder’s Garden as a partner in supplementing essential food, water and shelter. In return, backyard birding delivers a spectacular display of colorful plumage and antics—set to a melodic soundtrack of chirps, trills and whistles. “Birds are also pollinators, and they eat insects, so they’re a good thing to have around,” Bonnie adds.

Image by Rick Morris

Even now, with her daughters grown and flown and five grandsons, Bonnie has no immediate plans to pass the backyard birding baton. She continues to relish her San Carlos hilltop perspective—amplified by all-weather, hummingbird, peanut, suet, niger and ground feeders, four bird baths and even a squirrel feeder—and cherishes the rhythm of her days in the store. “I like what I’m doing,” she affirms. “And I like the cause: backyard birding and taking care of wildlife. Why would I retire?”

Friendly to Feathers: birdersgarden.com

Homemade Suet Recipe

Rich with oils and proteins, suet is a high-energy food. There are lots of birds—like insectivores—that won’t come to a seed feeder. Especially beneficial in fall and winter, suet attracts feathered species like woodpeckers, nuthatches, chickadees and wrens.

1 cup chunky peanut butter
2 cups vegetable shortening
1 cup flour
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup coarse cornmeal
1 cup sunflower chips
medium-crushed egg shells

“Bicyclists and motorists who travel west of 280 on Sandhill Road will certainly have noticed the sign for The Horse Park at Woodside,” notes Menlo Park photographer Jennifer Fraser, who explains that this nonprofit equestrian center provides opportunities for educational, recreational and competitive activities. However, Jennifer relays that her connection is purely aesthetic. “Clouds frame the oaks that are so common to California landscapes,” she says, “and horses will often amble over to the fence to investigate a passing visitor.”

Image by Jennifer Fraser / jenniferfraser.zenfolio.com

Calling all Shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

“What’s a Nachi?” you ask. My family in Los Altos originally wanted a boy dog and had already picked out the name, Nacho. But then I came along—a girl—and Jennifer, Kenny and Daniel decided to swap the final ‘o’ for an ‘i.’ That was seven years ago, and they fully agree, “We cannot imagine Nachi being called anything else.” I’m a California black Labrador retriever, and they also say I fully live up to my breed’s reputation. I relish the feeling of the ball in my mouth, grass under my paws and the rush of the wind through my ears. And how lucky am I: The dog park is right across the street from us! It’s my favorite place to go, and I even know how to get there by myself. One time, when my leash didn’t come out soon enough, I wedged my wet black nose through a door gap and sprinted across the parking lot to the gate. “NAAACHIII! NAAACHIII!” I heard Kenny yell, and he seemed to be mad at first. But then he pulled out my ball and we played fetch until I was happily panting with my tongue lolling out of my mouth. Being a quintessential Lab, I also love swimming—and joy of joys, we go to Lake Almanor every summer. Here’s my perfect day: Nap in the sun. Walk down to the dock. Jump in the water. Paddle around for a bit. Repeat. That’s the good life—Nachi style!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Kepler’s buyer and inventory manager shares what surprises people about Menlo Park’s iconic bookstore, a plot twist that truly shocked her and what she collects (which won’t come as a surprise).

Given that Kepler’s Books dates back to 1955, what most surprises people about the store’s history?
After 68 years, which included two near-death experiences, many people continue to be surprised that Kepler’s is still in business. We like to quote Mark Twain: Rumors of our demise are greatly exaggerated.

What does it take to make the cut as one of Aggie’s “Monthly Picks”?
I was raised reading classics, and my monthly picks are usually books I want to read and reread again and again. As many bookworms will attest, books pick me and not vice versa.

What was memorable about where you grew up?
I was born and raised in Sarajevo, Bosnia, the city now infamous for being under siege for 1,425 days during the break-up of Yugoslavia, the longest siege of a capital city in modern history.

What’s your go-to Peninsula restaurant?
I love Cafe Borrone next to Kepler’s. My favorite dish is their seasonal salad with the best raspberry vinaigrette in the world.

What do you consider a must-do on your bucket list?
Finish writing my novel-in-progress: You Are My Country Now.

What do you collect?
Not surprisingly, I collect books and even have different editions of some of my favorite books.

What do you consider to be the best and worst book-to-movie adaptations?
My favorite is Remains of the Day (after Kazuo Ishiguro’s book) with Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins. My pick for the worst is the recent Netflix adaptation of Rebecca with Lily James and Armie Hammer (lovely actors, but it didn’t work for me).

Where do you go on the Peninsula that recharges your batteries?
My favorite weekend pastime is hiking Russian Ridge in the Santa Cruz Mountains and having a picnic under the centuries-old trees (the Ancient Oaks Trail).

What’s a book with a plot twist that truly shocked you?
The recently published The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese. Something so shocking happens at the end of that book, and I never saw it coming!

What is your most cherished possession?
My mother’s notebook with her handwritten recipes.

What’s the last thing you do before you go to sleep?
Most nights, I read in bed for one or two hours. I have a big pile of advanced copies of upcoming books on my night table. Ann Patchett’s new book comes out in August!

What’s your favorite quote?
“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read.” —James Baldwin

Words by Johanna Harlow

For Tony Vella, it’s a typical night on the job. On a street in the Tenderloin district, Tony cranes his neck up at a man with one leg out the window of a third-floor apartment. The guy has his arms wrapped around a 60-inch flat-screen TV. Then he lets it go. Tony instinctively arches back and—whoosh—the falling projectile breezes just over his head before it smashes across the concrete.

Dodging objects comes with the territory when you’re a stuntman. And tonight, Tony’s on set of the second Venom movie, filming a scene where the hero is embroiled in a Jekyll and Hyde battle with his alter ego and household items become casualties. It’s not Tony’s first time in the Marvel universe. You can also find him in Antman as a driving double for Michael Peña (AKA Luis).

Beyond stunting, doubling and driving, Tony works gigs as an aerial rigger and stunt coordinator. “Some people get known for being exceptional fighters—or they specialize in high falls, fire burns, driving, wire work, flying around or spinning,” the Pacifica resident says. “I’m an all-around guy. You know what I’m really good at? Getting beat!”

At the age of seven, he already knew he wanted to be in show biz. “Television was my babysitter,” recalls Tony who was raised by his grandparents, aunt and uncle in San Francisco. “The original Batman TV series really got my attention with the fight scenes!” Fascinated by the voices he heard in Warner Bros. cartoons, he experimented with impersonations. To demonstrate, Tony shifts his voice to a Brooklyn/Bronx swagger, “Pretty soon, I realized I could do a pretty good Bugs Bunny. ‘What’s up, Doc?’” He switches to a nasal stutter, “Or eh beh beh eh boy, Porky Pig.” Dipping into a dopier octave, he layers on a lisp, “Or ‘Hey! Bullwinkle Moothe here!” Tony also impersonated relatives and mimicked monsters like Dracula and Frankenstein. “My grandparents didn’t know what to do with me!” he laughs.

Later on, while caring for aging family members and working at an auto body shop, Tony squeezed in acting auditions during lunch breaks. He began securing instructional video gigs. “‘This is how we load the fry machine.’ ‘This is how we make the shakes,’” recites Tony in a chipper voice. “I probably did well over 75 of those in my career.” He also landed some “small parts in small commercials.” Undeterred by the slow slog, Tony kept at it, taking every local class he could on acting, commercial improv and cold reading as well as studying method acting at Jean Shelton Acting School. (“Keep trucking, keep trying, right?”) And then, on yet another audition, Tony noticed an ad for a stunt school on the bulletin board. Writing the number down changed his life.

After learning the precise art of getting pummeled, Tony found his way onto an episode of America’s Most Wanted as a cop who gets shot during a routine traffic stop. Suddenly, he had himself a niche. “Now I know what my calling card is! I’m the stunt guy who can act,” he realized. After two more AMW gigs, Tony started serving as a double for the character of Evan on episodes of Nash Bridges.

Tony poses with a cursed victim from The Bell Keeper starring UFC champion Randy Couture. Tony served as stunt coordinator on the film, which is currently awaiting release.

In those early years, Tony also performed in live shows at Vallejo’s Six Flags. In an epic water battle via fan boat, Tony morphed into the nefarious Two-Face. “I fought Batman and Robin, three, sometimes four times a day,” he recounts. He also skulked about as a henchman in the park’s Jungle Theater, an “Indiana Jones meets Laura Croft” kind of show. “You hit this button and then you had so many seconds to get out of the way because the big propane flame was gonna come,” he reveals.

As his career took off, Tony racked up credits in big-name productions like Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, CSI Miami, Zodiac and Contagion. He’s had the snot kicked out of him on 13 Reasons Why (ironically by the character of Tony) and he’s been punched in the stomach by Angie Tribeca (wearing a voluminous pink quinceañera dress and tiara, no less). He’s also had his head bashed through a confessional booth screen in Our Flag Means Death. (Look for him as Fred Armisen’s double in the “We Gull Way Back” episode.) Of course, under all that fake blood and prosthetic lacerations, Tony’s loving every minute. “I like the physicality of it. I like the creativity behind it. I like the magic of it,” Tony says. One of his more over-the-top stunts? He grins when he shares, “Not only have I done stair falls, but I did one in a dress, in a wig, in high heels. Backwards.”

Despite many graphic deaths, Tony has evaded serious injury—a fact he shares while knocking vigorously on wood. “I got hit in the face with a garbage can lid when I worked on the movie version of Rent,” he adds with a shrug. Nothing unusual there. “We call it ‘dings.’”

Beyond set work, Tony founded Bay Area Stunts, a Northern California stunt network serving the motion picture and television industry. He also teaches students the trade from the patio of his Pacifica home, which is fortified with gear—from body protection pads and aerial rig equipment to tumbling mats and crash pads. “A lot of the new people coming into the industry aren’t properly trained,” Tony says. “My course is designed to make you entry-level ready.”

In fact, he’s currently the only person teaching a Hollywood-style stunt course in Northern California. His class covers everything from learning about gear and proper techniques to understanding technical terms and camera angles. “When the course is done, I’m not done,” Tony remarks. He provides resume feedback and even recommends students for work on films. When Tony blocked fight scenes as the stunt coordinator for No Address (an upcoming film featuring William Baldwin, Xander Berkeley and Lucas Jade Zumann), he recruited his protégés to help him troubleshoot.

What will fate throw at Tony next? An anvil? A psychopath? A car with tampered brakes? Be it blade or blaster, Tony stands with body pads and crash mats at the ready. Go ahead, do your worst.

lights, camera, *ACTION*

bayareastunts.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

The labyrinth of life draws us all along unexpected paths. Can we embrace the journey despite its twists and turns? Can we trust the process, forging onward through the bumps in the road? For Lars Howlett, labyrinths and life lessons are intertwined. “I feel like labyrinths are an incredible tool for personal transformation—to set an intention or to solve a problem or to mark a period or transition in time,” he observes.

Lars’ career path as a designer and builder of winding serpentine footpaths (as well as a facilitator of contemplative walks) certainly took an unforeseen twist. His personal life too has taken him in unexpected directions. As Lars shares, “Through love, loss and new beginnings, meditative walks have helped me maintain balance, cultivate inner peace and continue to step forth with courage and curiosity on this journey, along an ever-unfolding path.”

Entering the Labyrinth

Now don’t get it twisted: labyrinths are not mazes. “A maze has dead ends and choices,” Lars differentiates. “It’s meant to be disorienting—and a game, really.” Its walls also conceal your direction. On the other hand, “A labyrinth is a meandering path that winds its way to the center… As long as you trust the labyrinth and yourself and keep putting one foot in front of the other, you find your way.”

Earlier on his vocational path, Lars worked as a photojournalist as well as a part-time high school photography teacher at Atherton’s Sacred Heart Prep. On syllabus day, Lars would take his students to the school labyrinth and they would walk the circuitous route while setting their intentions for the class. On the final day of the semester, Lars led them back to the labyrinth to reflect on their journey and consider next steps. He also returned on his own. “I found it a great way to decompress—especially if there was some difficulty with a student or it was the grading period,” he explains. “Just to kind of refresh and reconnect.”

When Lars’ long-term relationship ground to a heartbreaking halt, he built his own labyrinth in Half Moon Bay overlooking the water. (“To find myself again,” he explains.) Every time he went out to walk it, he’d find others winding along its path. Clearly, he had created a healing space.

“When feeling lost in a labyrinth, the important thing is to trust the path and continue forward, knowing that there are no dead ends or mistakes that can be made,” Lars reflected later. “I was able to cultivate acceptance and forgiveness for myself and others, realizing that the journey of life is a long, winding road.”

Moved by this grounding experience, Lars decided to attend a Candlelight Labyrinth Walk at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. Which led to a workshop with master labyrinth-maker Robert Ferré in the church’s basement. Which led to a trip to the Chartres Cathedral labyrinth in France.

It was a pilgrimage of sorts, Lars explains. Burnt out on photography and seeking fresh direction, he quit both his jobs, put everything he owned into storage and bought a plane ticket. After France, he traveled to labyrinths in Iona and Gotland to connect with his Scottish and Swedish heritage. “Since my future was kind of unclear, I decided to reconnect to my past,” he shares.

As Lars learned more about the enigmatic history and universal nature of the labyrinth, he became enthralled with designs dating back thousands of years. The double-spiraled Baltic Wheel of Scandinavia and the whirling chakra-vyuha of India. The 11-circuit medieval labyrinths of Europe and the square-shaped labyrinths of Rome. He discovered this “sacred geometry” could even be found hand-woven into baskets belonging to the indigenous peoples of the American Southwest. “Nobody knows who or where the first labyrinths were created,” he notes.

Turning The Bend

After returning from his trip, Lars wondered if labyrinths could become his new career path. He got his answer in a newsletter written by Robert Ferré, the same man he’d taken the workshop from all those months ago. “Our most experienced labyrinth artists are all pushing 60 years old or more,” Robert wrote. “Hello, is there a younger generation out there to carry this work into the future?”

When Lars came forward, Robert agreed to train him to follow in his footsteps. A project at Sofia University in Palo Alto would be the first collaboration of many. During another pivotal installation, Lars and Robert partnered with additional labyrinth makers at Denison University. Lars ended up rooming with Marty Kermeem—who, it turns out, installed the Sacred Heart Prep circuit that first set Lars’ journey in motion. “I saw Marty at one turn in the labyrinth and then I came back around and the next turn over, there he was again,” Lars chuckles.

In 2015, Lars founded his own business, Discover Labyrinths. Beyond work with private and institutional clients, he facilitates walks and teaches workshops through Veriditas, a community dedicated to supporting “all who wish to explore the labyrinth as a way to tap their own deepest wisdom.” With roughly 200 temporary and permanent labyrinths under his belt, Lars’ handiwork can be found across the Bay Area and beyond. Among his signature local projects: a pathway of lavender within walking distance of San Mateo County Libraries, a stone design in the old quarry site of Bernal Heights in San Francisco and an appropriately multi-colored design at San Jose’s Rainbow Park.

What you won’t find is Lars’ original “breakup labyrinth” in Half Moon Bay. After a season of healing, Lars threw the rocks back into the ocean. “I lifted the weight off of the land,” he says, explaining that each labyrinth has its own timespan. Down the road in El Granada, however, you will find a special labyrinth in an eucalyptus grove at Quarry Park. Lars built it with his then-fiancé/now-wife. He smiles when he adds that their daughter contributed her own stone to her parents’ design on a return trip.

Sticks and Stones

Like life, labyrinths are what we make of them—and the materials of Lars’ masterpieces elevate his work. Once, for a shoe drive to aid migrants, Lars formed a footpath out of donated sneakers. On another occasion, Lars utilized stacks of textbooks at a teachers conference.

On a personal note, Lars once repurposed the remnants of a shipwrecked fishing boat that had crashed on Half Moon Bay’s rocks. “Walking that labyrinth, I realized that my life had kind of felt like a shipwreck and had fallen apart into a million pieces,” Lars reflects. “By taking those pieces and putting them back together in a new form, it was as if I had taken the pieces of my old life and put them back together in a new way that could better serve me in moving forward.”

And when his grandfather passed away, Lars commemorated the traveling geologist’s life with a pathway made from his collection of rocks from around the world. “It was really powerful to walk through the stones from all his travels, to reflect on him and reflect on his life,” Lars shares.

Lars' memorial labyrinth to his grandfather

On the lighthearted side, Lars’ cheekiest design consists entirely of lawn flamingos (built for appreciative attendees of a labyrinth conference in Florida). “A lot of people think the labyrinth is very solemn,” notes the pathmaker, “but you can have fun in the labyrinth. You can dance a labyrinth. You can laugh through the labyrinth.”

So find your own twisting path. And see where it takes you.

around the bend

discoverlabyrinths.com

Labyrinth as Meditative Practice
(Created by Lars Howlett, Veriditas and Shauna Shapiro)

+ Set an intention. Focus the walk on a question/theme, 
or simply commit to experiencing your experience.

+ Attune to your emotions and attitude. Give yourself 
permission to feel and respond honestly and openly.

+ Prepare by focusing your awareness in the present. 
Quiet your mind and listen to your breath.

+ Follow the pace your body wants to go. Your stride 
may change throughout the different stages.

+ Feel free to move around others or let others move 
around you. This is easiest to do on the turns.

+ The path is a two-way street: people may be coming 
out as you go in. Do what feels natural when you meet.

+ If you are walking as a group, allow a minute for 
others who are entering or exiting before you start.

+ Be respectful of others. It’s an individual and shared 
experience. There is no right way to walk a labyrinth.

Words by Dylan Lanier

All aboard! The Menlo Park Station is a gateway to Caltrain rides up and down the Peninsula, but it also provides a journey into the past. Built in 1867 by the San Francisco and San Jose Railroad Company, the structure is the oldest railroad passenger station in California. The main building’s nostalgic design reflects the styles of a bygone era. First fashioned in the image of a picturesque 1850s cottage, the station received Victorian ornamentation in the 1890s to appeal to the students and visitors of the recently-founded Stanford University.

Whereas it previously took three hours to traverse the distance between Menlo Park and San Francisco, the new railway reduced travel time to just 80 minutes. This inspired city dwellers to seek out the Peninsula’s warmer weather, with many building residences, like Leland Stanford and University supporter Timothy Hopkins. In 1884, the station began providing the first telephone exchange for the area. A northwest extension was built after an influx of military personnel followed the establishment of Camp Fremont, a World War I military base located in Palo Alto and Menlo Park. For more than 50 years, up until 2020, the station provided a home for the Menlo Park Chamber of Commerce in the repurposed “ladies waiting room.” No faded relic, the Menlo Park Station remains a rich connection between the city’s past and present.