Last night my friend Laural and I went to a fundraiser for the Santa Ana Mountains, the “Tree Hugger’s Ball & Sustainability Fair.” After parking up a dusty canyon straight out of a cowboy movie, we cruised the booths, mostly about sustainable living, all of them with a delightful homemade look. We got some wine in  lovely wineglasses, not plastic, and chatted with a woman in oversize sunglasses dressed as a bee (she’d created the stripes around her legs with black duct tape). There was also a grown-up fairy flitting around, okay, not exactly flitting, that came later on the dance floor.

John Muir’s Great-Great-Grandson gave a speech on conservation along with slides; he was followed by a group of Acjahemen Indian women who spoke and sang about the land they’d revered and tended for centuries. As the lead woman ended her impassioned speech, two raptors appeared in the space between the trees above the stage, hovered for a moment and then wheeled away with a screech. Goosebumps.

Then came an obnoxious performer from New Zealand, Rusty Balls–really, that’s his name–who did magic tricks. Finally. The dancing. There were two different bands, one a bluesy rock, the other a flashrock, reggae, ska group. Laural and I danced our butts off!! For two solid hours. There was this one teenager who really got into it, not embarrassingly so, and he wasn’t trying to be cool, he was just enjoying bopping around on a crowded dance floor with a mash-up of what were were mostly women of all ages (along with a bee and fairy).

And then we got lost coming home. And I wasn’t even driving. Even that was fun. I got to see Blackstar Canyon.