At A Wilder Harmony, we didn’t operate by the clock, but we did have rhythm. Our days unfolded with a natural flow—rituals, songs, and shared experiences that gave shape to the time we spent together. Harmony wasn’t imposed; it emerged. It rose and fell like breath, like tides, like moon phases. And when space was made for dissonance—pain, struggle, conflict—harmony returned with deeper resonance. But harmony didn’t mean letting go of leadership. In fact, it required it. We u

If harmony is a human need, then it must also be a foundation—something we build upon, not just aspire to. In my years of working with children outdoors, I saw how harmony wasn’t just a musical concept—it was a living condition that made everything else possible. Whether we were gathering under redwoods, exploring tide pools, or singing together in open air, harmony allowed children to feel connected, curious, and free to engage with the world around them. When harmony was pr

After a long pause, I’m returning to share reflections from a journey that began in the forest—shaped by music, motherhood, and a deep commitment to healing and education. A Wilder Harmony began as an outdoor preschool, rooted in nature and community—but it has always been more than a program. It’s a philosophy rooted in the belief that harmony is not a luxury, but a necessity. Whether guiding children through music, navigating my forty-year marriage, or engaging in the work

We are living in a time of deep division—politically, culturally, even within families. The noise is constant, the stakes feel high, and the temptation to retreat into our corners is strong. But what if there’s another way to be together? What if harmony isn’t about agreement, but about the courage to stay in relationship across difference? What if it’s not just a musical idea, but the soil we grow in—the invisible condition that makes learning, healing, and connection possib