My husband and I drove from Denver to Taos last Friday. After flying to Denver, we unfortunately got the rental car agent from hell, resulting in a late start for a long drive.

We arrived in Taos, the counter culture Mecca of America at 10:00 P.M. We were both hungry and looking forward to dinner. To our amazement, the hotel reception lady told us only two restaurants in town were still serving food. The first one we tried was already closed. When we walked into the second one, The Taos Ale House, the bartender was announcing the last call. We quickly decided to order wine, thus getting more alcohol in the one drink we were each lucky to be served. The available dinner turned out to be French fries.

While we were eating, a middle aged hippie couple with their quiet dog beside them came in and ordered two beers at the bar. They got their beer but were informed that “The dog’s got to go.”

As the trio passed our table on their way to a bench by the curb, I said, “Wish your dog could have stayed.”

The man gave me a smile and said, “People are the only kinks in the universe, the plants and the animals are all good.”

That Taosano made our day. His remark was completely nonsensical but true. In the vastness of the universe, humans are beyond insignificant. But in our human universe, our lovely, blue planet, his remark hit the target.

A dear friend just gave us a marvelous present. It weighed five pounds and was in a plastic bag secured with a twisty tie. Our gift was a bag of sand.

Many of you know that my husband and I live on a beach. We have tons of sand in our front yard, 150 feet of sandy beach and a 70 foot high sandy cliff. Isn’t giving us sand akin to giving Eskimos ice?

Good friends know each other well, and our friend knows that we are sand connoisseurs. We feel that every beach is unique and every beach is worth exploring. So a present of Sanibel sand, the Cadillac of sand, was a treat. We were as happy as kids with a new sandbox.

Since Sanibel Island is among the world’s top shell beaches, we knew that our sand held treasures. Here’s what we found when we got out the sifter.

For anyone who finds this all unecological, relax. Sand is just little itty bitty rocks, and as part of the rock cycle it is constantly moving and changing. Shells (many of which turn into sedimentary rocks) are a renewvable resource. Consult a mollusk if you are in doubt.

I don’t know if it is a blessing or a curse that I am a realist. I am not able to whitewash facts, be a Pollyanna or pretend the real world isn’t there. Those bread and circuses don’t work for me.

I have faced the fact that my favorite holiday, The Fourth of July, has ceased to be my favorite holiday. I cannot celebrate democracy when it has been replaced by an oligarchy.

Since I have no desire to wallow in negativity or write a dismal blog, I will share a thought provoking question.

My husband and I were at The Carter Center this spring. President Jimmy Carter, ninety years old and filled with vigor and hope, was addressing our group. He asked us, “How much money do you think I raised for my 1976 Presidential campaign?” Almost everyone in the room had lived through that year, but no hands were raised.

“I’ll tell you,” President Carter said. “I raised nothing. We had a dollar donation on our taxes then, and both Gerald Ford and I opted to take that money.”

America can be saved if everyone of us starts screaming loudly and voting clearly that we do not define “freedom of speech” as a few people spending billions to buy themselves a President, Senator or Representative.

We can get out the word, like President Carter did, that there used to be a better way to do things. We have not yet reached the stage when speaking truth to power lands us in jail. I will offer that as my positive thought for the Fourth. Spread the word and light a sparkler.

We are surrounded by a giant cocoon of green. The April showers did not materialize this year, but the June deluges did. Every leaf and plant is jumping up for joy and pumping out more chlorophyll.

Our ferns grew four inches last week, the fur trees are furry with new growth and the field of oats across the road is, in Conrad Richter’s words, “a sea of grass” – a very green sea I may add.

When friends from desert regions visit us, their first comment about our state is,”it’s so green”. Out West the green segregates itself: the emerald band of cottonwoods and vegetation along the river banks, the pines and aspens in the mountains. Tans and browns fill in the rest.

Our total greenness is not the least bit monotonous. The painter, Henri Rousseau, used 100 shades of green in one of his jungle paintings. Our landscapes can rival that. I cannot begin to count the varieties of green that surround me every time I drive or walk through the countryside now.

We all know that this dense green beauty is ephemeral. Orange, red and yellow pigments are lurking inside the green leaves ready to proclaim the end of the summer party. These precious few weeks are the time to stock up on green….the memories must last for endless winter days painted in shades of gray.

“I have a wonderful fairytale for you today. It takes place in a magical forest and was written by a guy named William Shakespeare.”

These words introduced my last art class of the school year. The first and second graders would be drawing scenes from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Fortunately, I did not have to reduce the bard’s 87 page play to kid size. Lisl Weil in her charming book, Donkey Head, supplied the child friendly synopsis. For illustrations, I used the elegantly detailed illustrations of Arthur Rackham and Kevin Maddison.

The classes loved the characters instantly: the bickering Queen Titania and King Oberon, the mischief maker Puck (a.k.a. Robin Goodfellow), the bad actor Nick Bottom and his donkey head and the fairies named Peaseblossom, Mustardseed, Cobweb and Moth.

I encouraged the children to draw their favorite scenes and characters. The various classes and teachers were free to experiment with art media of their choice. When the artwork was completed, I said, “You can now do something I ALMOST NEVER let you do. You can add glitter to your picture.”

June 21, Midsummer, is fast approaching. Go out and make some magic happen.

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
—Oberon describes Titania’s bower, where she sleeps.