I was sad to hear of Dave’s passing. Over the years I shared many labors with him, usually involving trees in one way or other. I did not live at Magic so I did not know him personally but did interact with him on various projects in the Palo Alto neighborhoods and especially in the Stanford foothills. I remember him as a thoughtful and informed Magic colleague as we were both trying to move Magic forward at a time when Magic was young. I recall that he was especially adept at communicating with young people, mostly high schoolers, and that he took a sincere interest in their development and education. There is nothing more important. In reading his history and what others have written, I can see that my view of Dave was correct. He was a good person, thoughtful, and impactful on the world and people around him. I was privileged to know him.

I was fortunate to call Dave Muffly a dear friend and trusted confidant – and I have been quietly devastated by his loss. Even as our lives carried us onto different paths in recent years, our time together remains vivid to me, especially our days wandering through wild and cultivated landscapes, riding bikes through the Santa Cruz Mountains, listening to him yodel in the Stanford foothills, churning the separated almond butter oil back into the 2-gallon tub, and slowing down to notice the subtle details in trees that most people pass by.

He taught me the joy of picking sun-ripened fruit — especially apricots — from what he considered the very best trees in Palo Alto. Dave generously mentored me in arboriculture, sharing not only his deep knowledge but his reverence for living systems. I know I am not alone in remembering a time when I asked about a specific tree and ended up with a lesson about the tree’s ecological and cultural importance.

Dave lived with a remarkable intensity and zest for life that made every adventure feel meaningful and fully alive. With him, I came to appreciate the simple joys of a big hat and deep shade, the chain on my bike (which he found used for me!) shifting smoothly, and of eating dino kale — comforts he loved and that now feel like small reminders of his presence.

Equally important, he encouraged me to care for myself, particularly through regular exercise, good sleep, and time spent outdoors. Dave’s steady kindness, humor, and vast wisdom shaped me in ways I carry forward. I miss him dearly, and I am grateful for the memories that keep his spirit close to me.

I had the opportunity to meet Dave while residing at Magic 2007-9. I really appreciated his enthusiasm, his sense of public good, and his kindness. When I bought a house in the Berkeley Hills in 2009, I was pleased to get his advice about how best to care for the trees on our property.

May his memory serve as the positive force that his life did.

Images of how I most remember time with Dave: at the International Oak Society conference at Davis; at the Santa Barbara Public Market, which he introduced me to – now my favorite place to eat when I visit; at the Carnegie Institute, plotting tree programs; and during our many happy hours exploring the trees of the Stanford campus.

We are so sad to learn about Dave’s passing. In the throng of wonderful people residing at or associated with Magic during our time there, Dave stood out in his earnest and happy way. Among the many goings-on with the residents, crew, and ourselves at the time—mainly working in the foothills or on the sleeping quarters with Dave, David, Mark, Ross, Jeffrey, Robin, Hilary, Joan, Bruce, Daniel, to name a few—Dave was always a steady and friendly presence. We feel grateful to remember Dave with you.

We are inspired by the way he demonstrated the principle of right-livelihood. His career devoted to oak trees demonstrated how a weekend hobby for some could be a full-time engagement for another. Dave was clearly a man who could think outside the box. We like to imagine the people and animals who are now enjoying the fruits of his efforts.

Carl & Pam

I remember Dave Muffly as being earnest, intelligent, sensitive, and dedicated. I was impressed to learn about his accomplishments. He is missed. He was a kind soul.

From my earliest memories Dave was a thoughtful, kind, and adventurous person who loved to share stories of his life. From riding bikes around the Bay Area to planting trees, he was always having a good time and making sure anyone with him was as well. I remember many days playing and working in the Stanford foothills together—this photo posed by a visiting artist shows us amidst oaks we’d planted—and most recently a few days in Santa Barbara visiting my twin sister Hilary and catching up with him. I remember Dave encouraging me to follow my interests and enjoy life along the way. Even though we’d often go years without seeing one another, whenever we did he felt like part of my family. He was always willing to lend a hand, teach someone a new skill, or just sit back and listen. We all were fortunate to have Dave in our lives!

We met when I was an undergrad at Stanford. You were a slightly older alum and valued friend during a time of alienation for me. There was a lot to think about and you had usually had a matter-of-fact — and funny — way of putting your finger on the crux of the matter. We used to commiserate about the big scary challenges humanity faces, and I admired your courage for not looking away, but facing them fully and in detail.

I remember hanging out, talking, and either tending or sitting beneath trees, finding refuge in plants together. You showed such gentle, efficient care for each individual tree — but maintained a cosmically big perspective on what you were doing.

You brought a sense of hope by your actions, that there was something that could be done, or at least tried. You brought your catalogue of knowledge, engineering education, ecological touch, and strategic mind together to leverage your impact as just one person: planting thousands and thousands of trees, and planning for millions more.

A quirky arborist who rode his bike to projects, you brought a spirit of play amidst absurdity. There’s a profile of you called “Nut job,” and I think you were proud of that title.

I respected your sense of adventure — traveling to Mexico to gather acorns — or to the depths of consciousness to see what was there. One time you described going to “oblivion” and back, but it wasn’t a “bad” experience. It was an interesting seed of a thought you shared.

I’ll remember the depth of feeling in your eyes. You did not fully hide your demons. But you also couldn’t contain your enthusiasm. You were so excited about your recumbent bike —the first I’d ever seen. And you talked about “ecstatic dance.” What I’ll most remember is your big grin and wild laugh.

You may have had concerns about humanity as a whole, but you met us each with kindness and generosity. You gave me one of your wide-brimmed hats one time — I wish I still had it — to protect my pale northern skin from the Sun at a latitude, and thinned atmosphere, I was not evolved for. It’s a good metaphor for your gifts to all of us: you were a man who planted trees whose shade you knew you’d never sit in.

Thank you, Dave. You’re leaving behind several forests of trees. And you’re still alive in our memories.

I cried when I heard that Dave Muffly had sailed on. The world needs more people like him, not less: folks who will live hard questions about humankind’s place in the natural world and how we can integrate human and natural resources moving into the future.

I joined Dave on many oak tree [mis]-adventures when I was in high school and college in and around Palo Alto, and he was a lovely host and teacher. Sometimes we planted trees, more often we tried to keep existing ones alive and / or figure out why trees had died. Dave was always didactic, and in many ways this was some of my first real work experience: long shifts in variable weather and conditions, solving problems in the field, trying to get things sewn up before heading home. Sometimes it was just me and Dave out there, and we shared a lot of great conversations and jokes while we were making berms or adjusting tree shelters. I gained a lot of “operational knowledge” out there w/ Dave, including one time where we got a pick-up truck inextricably stuck in a muddy wash up in the Stanford Dish area. Dave didn’t panic even when one of the Stanford land managers showed up and threw a fit. He made appropriate apologies and we held station until a tow truck arrived. I’ve been working to manage various volunteer programs over the last 18 years and I know that I carry on some of lessons Dave imprinted on me about communication, teamwork, and commitment to a mission.

Dave was open with me about his personal history and some of the ways that he struggled to balance his activist ideas with creating a stable life for himself. It can be a hard pursuit, and a lonely one, to reject what’s normal and comfortable and instead aim for something that feels right but may not yet be tangible.

I lost touch with Dave years ago as I moved around and got wrapped up in my own career and life. His passing is a reminder to aim to stay connected to and supportive of the people in your life who are asking the big questions and walking a unique path.

I tagged along with Dave a lot, when I was a high school and college student volunteering with Magic. The measures he contributed to the symphony of my life are central, even though we hadn’t spoken in many years at the time of his death.

That’s Milan Kundera’s metaphor. Dave might prefer “album” to “symphony.” He and David S. were the ones to assure me, when I was heading out one night to join friends at a Jimmy Buffet show circa 2007, that most of the thousands of folks at Shoreline Amphitheatre that night would be wearing Hawaiian shirts, and a few would have fake parrots on their shoulders. I was sure they were pulling my leg.

He shared with me that there was a fair bit of pressure in growing up in a small town as Doc Muffly’s son, and how everything he did or said found its way back to his dad somehow or other, even without social media. I’m guessing this was in response to my musings as a young adult child of “super ZIP” Palo Alto, with all the pressures that brings.

I remember the “helm-hat” he created to add some more sun protection for his face. I remember crawling around on various neighbors’ roofs to harvest persimmons or oranges, feeling transgressive even though Dave knew them all and they had offered to share. I got choked up looking at the photos above from Fruition, thinking about those trees and how Dave, through them, is the father of thousands.

I think of him every time I spend long enough looking at a tree to ponder its history and how it might grow in the future. He taught me to see the tree in motion, like a river finding its way around obstacles and sometimes splitting into co-dominant stems.

Liz

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Dave, but he’s someone you don’t forget. He embodied an intense thoughtfulness, while also being lighthearted. My wife, Diane, remembers first seeing him on a Saturday morning soaking wet after working on Magic’s oak project, but grateful for the rain we often craved in California.

As I recall I first met Dave when I initially stopped by Magic shortly after the 1989 earthquake. I was feeling the need to be involved with something and Dave also had recently arrived at Magic. While I always remained a casual volunteer, Dave dug in with all his natural intensity being a key contributor to the oak project and Fruition. Of course he grew into an expert on oaks.

Our paths crossed again when he and I were both involved with Canopy. My introduction there benefited from the Dave Muffly halo. Thanks to Dave our home was well supplied with fruit trees.

And I remember Dave, often in teaching mode, would tell me, and anyone else who would listen, about how he was finding acorns were hyper-locally adapted, so he wanted to plant acorns that were harvested nearby.

He was always fascinating. He was always the person you were happy to encounter in the neighborhood. I’ll always have fond memories of seeing him on his bike hauling his ladder. One of a kind.

I met Dave my senior year of college. We were all trying to see ourselves and our lives clearly, and to make our own choices based on who we truly were, which we inconveniently couldn’t do because we didn’t know yet. Dave would walk into the room with his smile and self-effacing humor, and was always kind and real and gentle. He of all people continued to live a life that was true to himself and his principles, and inspired many of us through the years in ways for which I am sure he was not aware. He will continue to do so, but I’ll miss having him here.

I remember Dave as a storyteller, a lifelong learner, and a giver.

My earliest and most frequent memories of Dave are of him regaling the Magic dinner table in his rich voice. His tales ranged from memories of his early life in Nebraska to thoughts on trees, climate science, music, American culture, and societal change. As Dave followed his path in different directions, we joked that he orbited Magic, sometimes more closely, others more distantly, always periodically reappearing.

When Dave pivoted from mechanical engineering to horticulture, he redirected his keen eye for detail and endless desire to understand how things work to the task of protecting ecosystems on which we all depend. In 2018, Dave and I worked together to survey oaks from other Mediterranean climates planted on Stanford lands. I was amazed by his encyclopedic knowledge of oak hybrids and ability to assess vigor gained through decades of observing oaks across western North America. He was also a big picture thinker, trying to make sense of the crazy world in which we live, and always eager to share his latest insights.

Dave was exceptionally generous. While I was an undergrad at UCSB, someone stole my bike wheel and helmet. Dave, in his gold Porsche wearing a giant brimmed hat, arrived at my doorstep bearing a replacement wheel and his own bike helmet. On a larger scale, he gave by planting trees, promoting new horticultural techniques, and advocating novel strategies for climate adaptation.

Thank you, Dave, for your generosity and commitment to living authentically.

Dave was alternative in a wonderful and refreshing way and challenged unhealthy society norms and ways of living.

I was working as a NICU RN at Stanford and a long weekend was coming up. Being incredibly busy, I had sadly not planned anything ahead. When he asked what I might be doing and saw my meh face, he smiled his big grin and said “Oh, so you’re going to stay local,” and that was a very good thing in his mind. It meant slowing down, taking care of oneself, not burning a bunch of gas, being kind to your neighbors, and lending a hand locally-maybe even planting a tree. In my mind, he (and the Magic House) taught me the original JOMO (the Joy of Missing Out).

But Dave’s unique perspective on life also seemed to make his path more challenging in ways. I can imagine he found himself a small boat launched into a giant corporate ocean all vying for his rare and coveted passion he held sacred for Vitamin Nature. It does appear he became “successful” in that realm according to how the US system judges people. But knowing Dave, this success created conflict, and he probably knew deep down this was not exactly the life he had imagined.

Modern cognitive science says dissonance can create a myriad of health issues for anyone, not just Dave. So for those of you reading this, Dave would ask you to stress less and JOMO more. And love each other in the moment.

“There are good days and bad days for me – even now. Don’t let the hard days win.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

Dave and I overlapped in Magic circles from around 1989 to 1994. Then, and now reflecting back to then, I really appreciate his loving friendship. A particular memory I want to add comes from yoga classes. Dave and I regularly attended them at Magic. Yoga was new for me at that time and I often stretched to my max. I wanted to be more limber, as I think most of us there did. Mostly we were quiet about it, while following our breath, etc. But there was this one guy, Dave, who would unabashedly groan as we all tried to settle more deeply. My first reaction was to think, “Who is this guy, messing up the mood?” Then someone allowed as how Dave was simply expressing the pain we all felt. Yes! He showed me how the groaning was pretty good yoga in and of itself. Thanks, Dave, for your great company, insight, and inspiration.

I was very surprised and saddened to learn of Dave’s passing. I first met him when he generously showed up, just after I moved to California, to help Bruce and me unload my bed and other unwieldy items from a moving truck. Bruce and I had just driven hundreds of miles for me to take a job at Stanford, and were understandably fatigued. Dave had never met me before, but jumped in to help without hesitation when asked by Bruce.

His energy and joie de vivre were persistent features. In those days, Dave got around mostly by bicycle. As I loved biking and wanted to do so while getting groceries, Dave introduced me to bicycle grocery bag panniers. It was a perfect intervention. I still use them for much more than just groceries, and have shared them with many when teaching bike education classes.

I admired his remarkable pioneering work with Canopy, and his other advocacy for trees. I, like another writer on this tribute, also recall the time he assembled 10 types of apples and lovingly presented their various charms to us.

As the tributes have noted, Dave was very smart, ahead of his time, and deeply kind. I wasn’t as close to him as others here have been, but each time I interacted with him, put simply, I perceived a good guy. We had vastly different outlooks on some things, but usually found common ground.

I hadn’t seen him in a long time, but texted him a couple years ago when visiting very briefly with family in Santa Barbara. We agreed to get together the next time I visited there. Alas, it was not to be. His friends and family are now missing a caring, lively man, and Mother Earth is missing one of her most ardent advocates. His legacy will surely endure. May he rest in peace. 🌎 🙏

I admired Dave as someone who was making a difference in the world. And I admired his trajectory from low-key bicycle arborist to head of the massive Apple campus tree design. As I recall, he had been active in an issue about trees in downtown Palo Alto, and caught the eye of Steve Jobs, who brought him on. I was happy to know that he would be financially rewarded for his work, and recognized by a wider public. And I loved hearing that he had discovered a variety of acorn that did not require leaching, and was busy cultivating this variety – what a great boon that would be to bring the acorn back into easily-edible territory! I hope that his work with that will be carried on. Though I didn’t have a lot of in-person contact with him in quite a while, I trusted that he had remained just as sweet of a man as i knew. Very sad to see him go, but he leaves a legacy that will benefit generations to come …

Every part of my friendship with Dave was built from authenticity. I always seek that same authenticity in new friendships, but I’ll be surprised if I ever find it again in such great supply.

All my time with Dave felt effortless. From our first days in the freshman dorm we could enter a mode of play that was as freeing and chaotic as your precious time on the playground during recess.

Where Dave and I differ is that I don’t have much brain space, talent or sinew beyond that playground. Dave mustered a mountain of effort, concern, and introspection that always sought the best and right thing to do for himself, for his friends and (no lie) the world.

I marvel at all Dave accomplished, but I also acknowledge the struggles and hardships and messes he made along the way (he was quick to do the same). When Dave was battling his frustration or guilt, nothing gave me more joy than dragging him back onto our friendship playground and hearing his high pitched giggle that was so different from his melodious DJ baritone.

I miss him so much. Here’s hoping you all find friends as authentic and motivated as Dave, and that you spend lots of time with them on the playground.

It’s hard to believe Dave has returned to his former relationship with Mother Earth. His time came too soon, but he made the most of the ultimate gift.

We’re all one;
In the light of the setting sun.
From Earth we come;
And return when the journey’s done.

I met Dave in 1989 when he bounced into the Earth Day 1990 headquarters in downtown Palo Alto. His smile was pure and he had a chuckle in his voice suggesting insights into cosmic questions. He was a searcher. We had that in common.

Dave and I worked together to create fact sheets. They inspired untold numbers of people around the globe to take action for the Earth. To treat the environment as a part of ourselves, not apart from ourselves. We created committees to share in the work, and the fun.

Dave introduced me to Magic. He was a connector. I will miss him…for now.

This morning I planted a coast live oak in memory of Dave near San Francisquito Creek. I look forward to visiting it often for inspiration.

I’ve been following Dave’s work since the late 90s when he was restoring oaks on the Stanford campus with Magic. We followed his oak tree planting protocol on the former Fort Ord in Seaside with considerable success. We are now using some of the oak tree species he’s been studying and sharing in projects in Los Angeles. What a generous spirit, I am so sorry to hear this. For his friends and family, please know the gift of his thorough research and generous outreach and education will continue to produce acorns, seedlings and oak trees for decades and even centuries to come.

There is a quality about people you meet because they love trees. They have passion and directness. Dave was one of those people. I first met Dave in 2015, when Sairus Patel suggested that he would be perfect to help us learn about oaks on campus. He mesmerized the students with his voice, his stories as we walked around campus, and his unbridled opinions! When after a break of many years, we taught the course in 2022, Dave was there, bursting with enthusiasm and an infectious love for oaks. And then on Nov 12, 2025 we went for a field trip to Apple Park. He asked me, “Will you take videos? They seem to like it more than photos!” with that slightest tinge of irony. I am so glad I did, because it captures just a tiny bit of him. We parted with the promise of meeting soon and talking about projects we could do. That was not to be, and I did not get to know him or learn more about his remarkable journey. But I shall think of him often. A couple of weeks ago, as I walked around the little triangle on the edge of the Stanford campus, I saw the now leafless oaks that Dave showed us three years ago, now bare except for their little metal tags. A message of hope and persistence? Joan Baez once said ‘I talk to trees to get answers. They give it to you cold turkey.’ She could’ve been talking about Dave.

I shared a home with Dave and others in the late 90s. If I’m remembering correctly when Dave would send a letter in the mail he would take the pen and outline the border of the envelope to make it a “little more special.” He would do that when talking to people too, paying extra attention and giving a thoughtful reply. People would walk away feeling special. So I started doing this. And to this day I still make borders on all of my envelopes with a pen to make my communications with others a little more special.

I was lucky to cross Dave’s path in 2021, when I was living at Magic. The first time we chatted, I noticed his very peculiar diction and storytelling style. He was the first American guy I ever met who said “recreational vehicle” instead of “RV”! He was definitely a “sharing-oriented” person: as a foreigner, I could understand every single word he said, even when he was talking about very specific topics.

Later, I had the opportunity to experience his generosity firsthand. While we were driving through Big Sur, he hosted our gang for a night at his place in Santa Barbara. That was no ordinary night. He introduced us to ecstatic dance, as we attended a silent ecstatic dance party on the beach.

Life-loving, people-loving, sharing-loving… That’s how I remember you, Dave.
Thanks for everything.

What I admired most about my friend, Dave – in addition to his extraordinary knowledge of oak trees – was that he chose his life. In college, when he was a crew-cut mechanical engineer with a passion for cars, no one would have guessed that he would become an intentional community-dwelling, ecstatic-dancing, bicycle-riding arborist (still with a passion for cars). Some people’s lives take unexpected turns by accident. Not Dave’s. In his early 20s, he developed a new understanding of himself and chose a new path accordingly. He lived deliberately.

My husband and I met Dave when he moved to Palo Alto’s College Terrace neighborhood in 1998. He shared a home a few doors away from ours and promptly became a friend and a true asset to our community. He even housesat for us for a few days while living nearby. As many of you know, he then moved a few blocks away and became part of the Magic community.

Our connections with Dave were many. My husband helped with his oak planting efforts on Stanford lands and the plantings down along the East Palo Alto sound wall. We’re all richer for having these plants.

We were sorry when he relocated to Santa Barbara. We missed seeing him around town although we were pleased to be able to meet up with him when we visited Santa Barbara in autumn of 2024. And we were very pleased when he moved back up here a while later.

More recently, he helped me locate suitable plants to replace several things in my garden that had died.

Dave had also promised to help me repot a citrus tree that had outgrown its pot. That was supposed to take place on November 14th. Instead I received an email from him telling me that he had an emergency and would be in touch soon. Little did I know then that he would be gone two days later.

Truly devastating! The world is a much poorer place without Dave.

I don’t know when I met Dave, but he helped us with tree selection and management in our mini-urban-forest garden. What I really remember is what he taught me about pruning:

“You are having a conversation with a tree. It grows a branch, saying ‘how about here?’ You snip it and say ‘not here.’ For another branch, you leave it and say ‘yes, here.’ The tree is patient, it keeps offering possibilities and you keep shaping them. And between the two of you create the garden of both your dreams.”

Probably a lesson for life.

I remember him helping me disassemble my bike for repair for the first time I had ever tried to do it, and the enjoyment he had in helping me learn about it. I will always remember seeing the bearings for the first time, under the shade of the Magic workshop, with Dave talking appreciatively about the inner workings of the wheel – something I had never before really considered.

I remember Friday night dance parties where Dave would move joyously, eyes closed, grooving. I remember him joining in music jam sessions with a look of concentration and a smile.

I remember Dave’s distinctive voice. He was a great storyteller, not only in the stories he told but in how he told them, with his vocal range, expressive style, and enormous laugh. I can hear his laugh in my mind still; what a joy!

I remember learning about the planting and watering of oaks at Stanford from Dave. He knew everything about oaks, any question you had, he would have something interesting to say. When I first learned he had trained as a mechanical engineer I couldn’t believe it. How can he be so incredibly accomplished as an arborist…as a side pursuit? He knows more about this than I know about my own major. Who IS this guy??

I remember Dave’s humbleness, his willingness to learn in unfamiliar areas, and how he never made me feel embarrassed to ask a question or make a mistake. He had empathy, humor, and grace.

Dave, I am better for having known you. You live on in my memory, and your trees will continue to give life.

Dave was so good! Perhaps most importantly, he showed up as grateful for all that we get; very aware + appreciative that we lead amazingly privileged lives 😊

Always smiling and eager to help out… whenever I asked for help Dave was right there, cheerfully doing whatever was needed. He never presented himself like he knew better than the rest of us – and when he asked questions it seemed like it was because he really wanted to know what I thought, not tuning out when I talked and waiting to push his point of view. He genuinely respected my path, choices, experiences, and achievements… although they were often completely different from his own.

Dave had a strong mind and work ethic. Earning a degree in mechanical engineering at arguably the best program in the world (MIT and Stanford share that honor) … this is no joke; I was part of Stanford’s engineering program as were the founders of many Silicon Valley companies, and I worked closely for years with guys who were classmates of Dave’s; these are incredibly valuable and ridiculously great engineers… people who have earned prestige early in life and who are often on a trajectory to achieve significant personal wealth and power.

Dave got the degree, and then chose a different trajectory… he passed up on taking more than his share of material success as almost everyone else defines it in the world. He gave it up to plant and take care of trees. Maybe that decision seems like a no brainer to you, because you are a friend of Dave’s, so you’re in a group of people who think differently than most. The decision is not a no brainer… it was a very noble thing to do; almost no man in his position does it. Many might choose instead to just do a little ecological work when it’s convenient, toss a few aluminum cans in the recycling bin, and pursue the path to material wealth with almost all of their waking hours… sharing that wealth only with their immediate family.

Dave did the noble thing, and he stuck with it – applying his intellect and will power, to deliver for all of us… by “all of us” it includes people he would never meet and people who would never say “thank you.” We need more people like him.

Thank you so much, Dave.

I met Dave this year in 2025. I work with trees and am learning as I go, and I sought his advice for some fruit trees and got invited to meet and chat at dinner at Magic. I learned so much from Dave and was able to zoom out and see my intergenerational friendship with him from a wider lens. I am a younger arborist who is seeking to have bad habits pruned out and good habits encouraged, working with him and knowing his decades of experience and his lightning – flash- intelligence of trees. I got to prune some trees at Magic with his guidance and I am different for my friendship with Dave. As he prepped to make a small cut on a feijoa plant, I remembering him addressing it saying ‘there we go sweetheart’ and then using the hand clippers to make the cut. I felt the love that he had for the plant and for the world in that moment and it further confirmed that this was someone who I wanted to learn from. I address plants and trees too when I work with them, it helps me focus and there’s no reason to doubt that they hear what we say and we are in deep conversation when pruning. First listening , then making a cut, then anticipating the plant’s response, and returning to check , over time. I am absolutely certain that Dave is teaching and guiding now and as I grow. All are welcome to learn from him. All you have to do is listen. I miss you, Dave.

I met Dave relatively recently and am very glad that I did. I loved hearing his stories at dinnertime. We shared a mechanical engineering background but we never talked about it, which was a refreshing change. Instead he introduced me to more interesting subjects more grounded in nature and ecology, for which I am forever grateful.

His knowledge and teaching are not the only thing that I was grateful for, he was also very generous and hospitable. He hosted myself and many friends of mine from here and and abroad in Santa Barbara, once again allowing opportunities, knowledge, and experiences for which I am indebted. Dave came across as someone who was always looking to give and help another and didn’t care to take anything in return. This pure, genuine generosity is something I will never forget.

I met Dave Muffly when he came to live at Magic in about 2010. I noted during dinner conversations there that he was knowledgable about trees, especially oaks, and spoke about his projects with them in an entertaining way. Since I’m an amateur naturalist and occasional habitat restoration volunteer, I enjoyed learning about planting and caring for trees from Dave in this way.

Dave came to live at Magic then because he had been hired to help replant trees along Palo Alto’s California Avenue. Mature, shade-giving trees had been cut down there without public input, an event known as “the rape of California Avenue.”

I later learned that Dave was a respected arborist when he gave a talk on California native trees in the context of climate change, to the Santa Clara Valley Chapter of CNPS, where I am an active member. I’m also aware of Dave’s many other tree projects, which have been described by others giving tribute to Dave on this website. Dave has gifted us with a great legacy of native trees that make our Bay Area environment greener and healthier for us. I will miss his entertaining stories and presentations and continuing to learn from him how to care for our environment. He will be missed.

What a loss. I met Dave years back while hanging out at Magic and will always remember his enthusiasm for all things trees. I’m pretty sure the first time I met him, he could barely contain his excitement to go do some guerrilla gardening with some stash of tree seeds he had. These weren’t just any seeds either, he kept telling me the scientific name of the tree seedlings with a glimmer in his eye – implying that bringing that specific seedling to his campaign of forestry would be quite the achievement.

I continued to follow his efforts over the years and it always brought a smile when he shared what he was working on – because it is a special thing when you meet someone who so absolutely loves what they are doing.

Will miss you, Dave!

We remember Dave’s energy & big smile flowing through the experience of community at Magic, of moving forward, dreaming more and being more together. Also, getting Dave’s advice on bike repair! We appreciate all these memories and hearing how Dave continued his vocation of planting and caring for trees throughout his life.

So surprised and saddened to hear of Daves passing…”A giant oak has fallen” I am privileged to have known Dave professionally, through the dance community in Santa Barbara, in which he was very active, and as a friend. Professionally, he is a visionary w/o peer, generous with his unique knowledge and perspective. He was a regular at dance, always clapping with me, or playing claves. I never missed an opportunity for myself and my kids to absorb his knowledge at a shared meal.

I forget how I first learned that Dave would be a good person to consult about better aligning our large lot with the local ecology. Maybe it was a cold call to Magic. My earliest memories of him are discussions about what to plant. Despite several efforts of mine over the years, he would only talk about one life form, but it was a big and important one. In those days, sudden oak death was newly in the air, and I remember Dave saying it horrified him to think of tanoaks in the neighborhood. (We didn’t plant any. (Not at that time.)) He advised me about what to plant, and then, when I had a yard full of small trees, he came and pruned and staked and taught. Some of the moments I remember most clearly, though, are when a different topic captured his attention. When he heard I had injured my back turning the compost, he dropped to his hands and knees and showed me an exercise that he had found to reduce back problems. (“It works _fast_.”) Once he was arrested by the sight of a book about nonviolent communication and seemed to register it deeply, saying, “This is important.” His astute guesses about my grandmother’s ER experience surprised me. I remember passing him on the street during the recession that followed the financial crisis, when he commented that the rest of life, the more-than-human world, was reaping a big dividend from our troubles. A high fraction of all the things I ever heard Dave say were interesting. He stayed abreast of climate research and had the latest thinking about possible local futures. Maybe 20 years ago, he told me that it seemed likely our local weather would become more like what the coast experiences, only with even more variable rainfall. I’ve often dropped that into conversations since then, glad to have a valuable nugget. At a recent talk he gave at Magic, I asked him what he thought of the tiny forest movement and felt disappointed to learn it wasn’t a very penetrating question: “Everyone asks me that.” (The answer, though, in case you’re interested, is that tiny forests represent misdirected human energy: We need to plant at a large scale.) I feel grateful thinking about the care Dave gave my trees, the example he set of committed contribution, and the general joy of being with him. He thought himself fortunate to have found his life purpose, and he delighted and took pride in it. The last time I saw him, we walked through my yard and he commented on the (mostly oak) trees. He had a sort of parental glow remembering every one of them in its younger days. He even seemed to remember every pruning cut he had made more than 20 years earlier; apparently, they all have worked out well. These coast live oaks are more gifted with and varied in temperament, character and strengths than I had been able to perceive, even though I like them a lot, too, and have tried to pay attention.

Since the day I set foot on this earth Dave has been an outstanding part of my life! Dave was always teaching me something or sharing one of his new adventures. Dave could always make me smile and was one of only a handful of people who have genuinely listened to me! Dave, although unhinged at times, always made me feel warm and safe in his presence and always strived to do good and helped many during his journey.

In the photos I’ve posted you’ll see me as a newborn with Dave in 2004 and at 21 in 2025.

Dave will always have a special place in my heart!

Dear Dave,

Thank you for being one of my first friends here at Magic. Thank you for supporting me in my animation career, for teaching me about life in the 60s-80s, and for your infinite wisdom about trees and nature. Thank you for constantly making me laugh and sharing breakfasts with me. Thank you for sitting outside Magic with me while I worked on my projects and you worked on your tree businesses. Thank you for calling in the “squirrel spirit animal” into many of our conversations, and again, for making me laugh.

I will never, ever, ever forget you and the time we shared — even though it was short.

Rest in peace Dave. May your spirit live on forever.

<3 Elise

I cannot remember the exact date of meeting Dave, but I know it was at Magic where my husband, Bill, and I were visiting our daughter, Hilary. We loved Dave’s passion about nature and his enthusiasm for good stories.

Dave was a storyteller, and he even had a “built-in-mic” voice to project to an audience of one or a full house. The last story that he told, complete with slides—and of course about trees, occurred at Magic just days before his demise.

Another recent event that Is fresh in my mind is the fall 2025 day when Dave cut the dead limbs from the apricot tree in front of the house where I live. Dave gave the tree a new look, a new life.

Following Dave’s work over the past 30-plus years, I know firsthand the impact that he has made on the environment. Thousands of trees that he has planted and nurtured are his legacy. He made a difference. He inspired the rest of us to do the same.

There is an old song with the refrain “So long. It’s been good to know you.” That refrain accompanies my memory of Dave.

Dave and I met through Magic’s oak project when I was a college student and he was a recent graduate. We planted and watered countless trees together, rode our bikes many miles through the hills, and had long conversations as we pondered the workings of the world and our own paths in it. Looking back on those times, I remember his enthusiasm, the sparkle in his eye, his ready laugh, his kindness and generosity, his lively mind. Anything from an ordinary bike ride to hauling heavy buckets of water for seedling oaks could be thought-provoking fun in Dave’s company.

As we biked through campus one day, he had something he wanted to show me and led us into an inner courtyard of the quad. There we came to a big, stout tree with long, deep-green leathery leaves—and beautiful oblong, sunny apricot-colored fruit. He handed me a perfectly ripe one and I tasted my first loquat, surprised by its nuanced, sweet-tart, juicy deliciousness. Dave was great at finding interest and delight in the urban landscape right around us.

One day a few years later, we drove through dense Central Valley tule fog to pick up hundreds of surplus bare-root fruit trees from a wholesale nursery, salvaging them from the burn pile to bring back and distribute to school kids who might not otherwise have a chance to grow a fruit tree at home. This too felt like a grand adventure, with Dave regaling me with his detailed knowledge of the many varieties of plums, pluots, and other trees we were salvaging, sharing his excitement about those deemed the tastiest, and our pleasure in imagining families enjoying their fruit one day.

A year or two after that, I remember Dave hosting an heirloom apple tasting at Magic. I don’t know how he accomplished it, but he had collected a dozen or more varieties of unusual apples, displayed and labeled with their intriguing names like Winter Banana and Ashmead’s Kernel, with slices to sample. At a time when the local grocery store probably carried just two or three ordinary varieties, seeing all this diversity – emblematic of the good that can come from people’s long-running stewardship of nature’s gifts – was another revelation for me, thanks to Dave.

I’m deeply grateful to have shared life with Dave, and sad that he has departed. He leaves a legacy of diverse thriving trees and of people whose eyes have been opened to their beauty and value. He leaves behind many of us who have been inspired by the way he directed his passions and creativity into work for common good, and by his generosity of spirit as a colleague and friend.

I’ve always admired people with skills more highly developed than mine, especially when they use their skills to improve the lives of others. Dave stands out in my catalog of such heroes. He had an extraordinary ability to store and recall details. He could instantly identify a large number, perhaps hundreds, of tree species, providing both common and scientific names. Recently one of our oak volunteers sent me a picture of an unusual acorn he had found in Greece. I sent it to Dave and within two minutes he responded with “Quercus ithaburensis, Mt. Tabor oak”. Another time recently we were out at one of Magic’s current planting sites. He pointed at a particular tree, and informed me this was a hybrid of blue and valley oak, called Quercus Jolonensis.

Beyond this naming ability, Dave had deep insights into the ecological patterns that influence our existence. He recently explained to me how topography in California causes our seasonal changes in fog, and why evergreen species outcompete deciduous ones.

Dave was passionately committed to common good. Like most of us, he understood the fundamental importance of tree cover to human’s ability to thrive. He was ahead of the curve in seeing that as the planet warms, we need to plant trees from latitudes farther south. This put him at odds with conservationists who insist on planting only local natives. Being ahead of the curve, seeing what many have yet to see, is both rewarding and frustrating. At his best, Dave had the ability to be supremely entertaining, as he explained how society, in its ignorance, was careening toward disaster. He called his delivery “Apocalypse Radio”. I eagerly “tuned in” whenever Dave wanted to share. I too have a “doomsday with humor” personality, but Dave was really skilled at it, with a booming voice and recall of facts at his disposal. The downside was that as an outsider, Dave had trouble forming intimate connections. Nature was for him an easier puzzle to solve. I like to think I was one of the ones he let inside.

We are fortunate to have recordings of some of the presentations he made. The photos here are from a talk he gave to the Santa Clara Valley chapter of the California Native Plant Society in 2022, entitled “California Native Trees: Climate Change and Adaptation”. The first three photos are of the soundwall along Hwy 101 in East Palo Alto, taken several years apart, that show dramatic change from weeds to trees Dave planted, now 30 feet tall. Next is an aerial view of Apple Park. Last is a slide showing animals, plants, and birds migrating in response to climate change.

I feel aligned with Dave’s mission and will carry it forward as best as I am able.

I met Dave through Magic almost six years ago, and I feel grateful that our paths crossed. We shared many dinners together. Dave brought a rare combination of depth and gentleness to the table. He knew trees in a way that came from careful study and lived attention, and he listened with the same care. He treated people and the living world around him with steady respect.
When Dave talked about the environment and trees, he didn’t just “tell stories.” He lived them as he spoke. He carried details in his mind the way other people carry songs, and he made the natural world feel close, specific, and worth protecting right now, not someday.

A few months ago, I watched him jump on his trampoline early in the morning under our giant oak, smiling like the day had handed him a gift. We talked about the beauty of nature, fresh air, movement, and gratitude; about how lucky we felt to breathe that clean morning air. That moment captured Dave for me: joyful, awake, and fully present with the trees.

Dave shaped the world through the trees he nurtured and the examples he set. I hope his influence guides new generations to plant even more trees and to care for them with knowledge and love.

I miss him deeply. Rest in peace, Dave. I will carry your memory with gratitude and love.

Dave was always responsible, caring, and excited about his work with the environment and trees. I watched him progress from an eager worker to a respected tree professional. He helped develop the protocol and methods to help regenerate the oak population in the Stanford foothills. He and David Schrom worked out and refined methods to germinate oaks, coordinate volunteers to ensure the seedlings survival and ensure project success. I watched him develop his knowledge and experience with the oak project to the point he helped introduce new and under-appreciated oaks seldom used or found in the trade. His position in the planting of the Apple building helped introduce many to unique oak species available now in the trade because of his efforts. I watched Dave help California horticulture evolve into a new appreciation of appropriate oaks and plants for evolving conditions. His work and efforts will long be remembered and have an impact in our communities and future. Thank you Dave for your contributions and friendship. You are missed.

What I remember most about Dave was that he was a man of integrity. He lived by his principles. He was passionate about caring for the earth, particularly plants and trees. I appreciated and was inspired by him and by other Magic residents in the way that they live each day, carefully considering the consequences and effects of their actions on the world around them.

I met Dave in 1989 when I lived at Magic, a public service organization and intentional living community, for part of a summer. Though I returned to campus housing to finish college after a year of English teaching in Indonesia, we continued to learn and work together through Magic . Thus began our journey as young adults defining our values and acting to further them. I’m posting a photo of us together in the mid-1990s.

We grew close over 36 years with bike rides to the ocean, hundreds of hours of “share and stare” Magic personal growth sessions, planting and caring for thousands of trees, dancing, back and forth visits after he moved to Santa Barbara, and much more. He was a brother to me and an uncle to the three kids who grew up at Magic.

Dave had a booming voice that he liked to say was “radio ready.” One time I remarked he was like a cartoon character and he embraced it: super squirrel! The third photo I posted is one he sent us of him with a bag recently collected acorns during a foray into Arizona. I smile thinking of Davisms such as “Taste-Free Tomatoes” (grocery store varieties grown just to look good, ripen simultaneously, and ship well) and “Climate Weirding” (global climate debasement) that have become mainstays of my and others’ lexicons.

Finally, I’m including a photo of Magic’s Santa Rosa plum tree in fall color that Dave shared with me on November 15th, the day before his death, suggesting that I include in my weekly update to Magic residents. This is one of the 40,000 fruit trees Dave and I saved together through Magic’s Fruition program, in which we salvaged surplus fruit trees destined to be burned and distributed them through schools with an accompanying curriculum.

As I grieve, I reflect on Dave’s circle of friends and feel at once grateful to be witness to so much love and appreciation and sad that Dave himself had difficulty accepting these when he was among us. Let’s honor him by caring for ourselves, each other, and the Earth.

Dave, Dave, Dave. Oh, how we miss you! Thank you for inspiring us with your curiosity, your commitment to science, and your love for people and the rest of the natural world.

From our first meeting in 1989, you were full of questions, little questions and big ones. You were fiercely critical of business as usual, and determined to see self and world more clearly. How many times did we join in learning? How often did we admit to our profound ignorance even after making a dent in it? I cherish your skepticism and your commitment to becoming less wrong.

Then there was your preoccupation with doing good. My first photo shows Dave after we watered 200 newly planted young oaks in 1990. I remember countless occasions, even one at a Dead concert, when we pondered how to be effective agents for common good. And you brought it down to the day-to-day. I recall too many times to list here when you gave freely your expertise about everything from bike maintenance to arboriculture, your material possessions from clothing and computers to pruning tools and cars, and perhaps most importantly your full attention. Only a couple weeks before your life ended, I thought your testimony in support of science-based policy before the California State Water Board among among the most compelling of the hearing.

I remember, too, your kindnesses to the kids who grew up at Magic, hauling them to open space in a bike trailer, teaching them about ecology, eliciting their laughter by playing the fool. My second photo shows Dave in the center of the Magic residents as we welcomed newborn twins in 1999. And I remember our kindnesses to each other when one of us was in a bind or feeling ill or just wanting a helping hand to lighten a load. Fixing, building, planting, repairing, we were there for each other. My third photo shows Dave cheering me as I repaired plumbing in his Santa Barbara home a few years ago when an injury prevented him from tackling the job.

Thank you also for uplifting us with your ready humor, your enthusiasm for making music and dancing, and most of all, your reminders that the future is better when we make it so. You knew that honest celebration of life and friendship is an essential part of “the work.”

Thank you, Dave, for three and a half decades of friendship rooted in shared commitment to science and loving. You were, and in some sense remain, an extraordinary partner.

Dave and I shared a love of oaks, and our first connection was through explorations of Shields Oak Grove at the UC Davis Arboretum where I work. I got to know him better as I started seeking out trees to plant on the UC Davis campus, and he introduced me to his forward-thinking ideas about oaks and climate adaptation. Our biggest collaboration was working together to organize the International Oak Society Conference at UC Davis in 2018. His epic post-conference tour included stops at some of his best oak projects at the Stanford Dish and Apple Park.

More recently, I benefited from his highly refined acorn collections for nursery tree crops, many of which have made their way into the UC Davis urban forest. Dave was a true believer in oaks and a highly effective oak proselytizer. I will miss our thought-provoking tree conversations and his astute and enthusiastic perspectives. I’m so grateful to have known him and for the knowledge and trees that he generously shared.

Love you with All of My Heart Now and Forever Dave!!

Thank you for every little thing we ever did or said or shared together. I miss you so much.

We will work hard to maintain your incredible legacy so you can return to a world filled with your climate adapted oak forests and migration corridors.

In the meantime, I hope whomever has you is enjoying all of that amazing knowledge, learning, creativity, laughter, sweetness, wild dancing and a bit of crazy.

Look forward to seeing you again soon.

Lynn

Dave! You get the exclamation point here, because you brought a lot of energy to life. I know you had ups and downs of all sorts, and did your best with the hand you were dealt. Thanks for taking me to hear the Dead, having surreal experiences out in the oaks with friends, pointing out lots of bike tips, and dancing like a maniac. Keep going, and we’ll see you next time around. May you come back as something vibrant and life-giving!