Category Archives: friends

When it rains it pours.

friends, my garden, nature,

We got rain in the night, and we’re getting a little today. A little rain, and that’s not the pouring I refer to.

It’s our Glad life that has become a little too much for us of late — or so it would seem, but we haven’t left anyone in the lurch yet. We had a blessed and happy visit from Mr. and Mrs. Bread, alongside difficult and sad situations to bear up under with other friends. That kind of thing always feels like too much.

The dirty dishes have been left to sit on the counter (in the lurch?) longer than I like, and it hasn’t done any permanent damage that I can see.

The Johnny Jump-Ups appear to have been nibbled by snails, but as I breeze by I don’t want to take time to hunt under rocks for them.

My kitchen didn’t produce any bread — the disorder was beyond the point where I could be creative that way — so thank God I was on the communion bread team at church yesterday and could happily knead and cut and stamp and let the senses of both my body and soul fill with warm and satisfying smells. Even the dough smelled good and soothing. In the photo I am the reflection in the oven door.

And even before the rain, the freesias started blooming, almost too brightly for my camera’s limited settings. We did go for a quick walk around the neighborhood, and I saw that even the most rundown ugly house with junk scattered about has been blessed with a gorgeous tree all in blossom, sitting as though dropped from heaven in the middle of the front yard.

I’ve been too busy for thoughtful writing sessions, but the pictures I snapped reassure me that the seasons are going around normally still. You know Who we have to thank for that.

The tulips are still making progress up through the now-softening soil, and Sweet Alyssum is growing the perfect blanket to spread below the blooms that are on the way.

Mr. Glad and I are going on a tiny trip this week, leaving behind the clutter of our forever unfinished business, and there will be time and mind-space enough for me to collect some more images and thoughts of Spring and Life. I think I just wanted to send this note that I am here and God is still at work.

Bodega and Stories of Horror

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This week we tripped over to the coast with Mr. and Mrs. C. A walk along the shore north of the town of Bodega Bay was first on the leisurely agenda. Schoolhouse Beach was closed, so we drove a little farther north to Portuguese Beach. It’s steep where the waves break on the sand, and signs warn you not to turn your back to the surf or to go on the down side of the slope, where an undertow can get you in its grip.

The View Landward

We strolled the length of the beach and back, admiring the view landward and seaward, and then sat on a log. Mr. and Mrs. C didn’t have their frisky Yellow Lab with them, but we’ve seen how she loves to romp in the water at Lake Tahoe or at nearby Salmon Creek Lagoon.

As we were climbing back up the cliff to the car, we met a couple coming down with four dogs, no matter that pets are not allowed on that beach. A tall great dane, two medium dogs with long hair, a tiny dog, and their owner carrying colorful beach ball.

Drowning at Portuguese Beach in 2011

We stopped at the top for a while and watched the Dane canter around joyfully. The mid-sized dogs pushed the beach ball into the waves and along the ocean’s edge — all right at that steep part that is so dangerous. Mrs. C. commented about how many people go into the ocean to rescue their dogs; the people often drown, but if they only had known that dogs almost always manage to get back on their own….

When I was researching for this post I discovered a news story and photo depicting a case of that very thing: a dog owner having drowned when she went after her dog and got caught in the surf. That time the dog did drown also, and it was at just this time of year. These accidents, though not always involving dogs, happen so often on the Northern California coast that the multiplied effect has turned them into horror stories for me.


“Birds” children running downhill from schoolhouse.

A bit inland from Bodega Bay, we came to the town of Bodega. Confusing, isn’t it? Both are famous for the Alfred Hitchcock movie “The Birds” being filmed here in the early 1960’s.

I saw it in my teens, and can still recall sitting on the living room floor, self-consciously and silently terrified. Ever since then, when I see crows looking down from telephone wires, I know from the experience of that movie that they have a sinister intent.

The schoolhouse today, a private residence.

Hitchcock mixed up scenes from the two towns for the film, and we checked out two of the landmarks that remain in Bodega: the schoolhouse and the church, which stand very close to one another on a hill. Within the last year we Glads and the C. couple watched “The Birds” together. It wasn’t as scary as I remembered, but I still don’t like it. I do like the buildings in Bodega.

On our way back from the beach we first stopped at a historic watering hole in the town; the Casino’s bar was built a hundred years ago by the bartender’s great-uncle. His grandmother still manages the place, opening the doors and closing up every day even in her 80’s.

The dining room (the sign said “Dinning Room”) was most appealing to me. It was fresh and clean and empty that afternoon, tables, chairs and floor of bare weathered wood as old as the bar. A dozen or more deer and elk heads decorated the walls around. I drank an Ace Peary Hard Cider, brewed locally.

After our refreshment we walked along a muddy little track through the grass along the bank above the road, to see the church and the school.

The church is St. Teresa of Avila. Services have been held there weekly since its dedication in 1861. From the church you can look down on the little artsy town of Bodega, as in the photo below.

When we had set out from our house that morning, I decided not to bother with a camera. Then of course I regretted it many times! I was lucky to find all of these pictures on the Web.

I’m happy to say there was nothing horrific about our meandering day. That’s a good thing about enjoying the present moment: one doesn’t have to be subject to artists’ imaginations, to old news articles, or to one’s own memories of bad things. “Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof,” and as there wasn’t any of that sort of thing on our outing, it provided sufficient R&R for my weary soul. Thanks be to God!

Town of Bodega

Lost in a very good dream…

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gooseberries

Coming home from the mountains last week, I didn’t have the usual thoughts of “That was lovely, but I have lots of things to do at home now and I can’t wait to get started.” No, this time I was mostly sad to say good-bye, and also couldn’t find good words to go with my pictures.

But one of our guests up there managed in her thank-you note yesterday to take away my sadness with her response to the few higher-elevation days we shared. I’m making her my guest blogger today. (Her thoughts in brown.)

Mountain time is a time-out from time, 
like the timelessness of being 
lost in a very good dream.
little lupine plants

When we came down from Gumdrop Dome the ground under the forest was scattered everywhere with tiny lupine plants. I wonder what month I would need to be there to see the slopes covered with tiny purple spikes?

… the dilated twinkle of 100 billion stars in the night sky (which reductionistically would take 3,000 yrs. to count.)

Of our three nights at over 8,000 feet elevation, we had only one night’s opening in the clouds to see the star glory. We missed most of the meteor shower — still, we saw a few shooting stars. And we gawked at the Milky Way, and were happy that the air was unbelievably warm all during our stay, day and night, so that we could gawk longer.

overlooking a canyon
All the sweet consolations of fragrant fresh mountain air, delicious soft water, 
warm sleepy nights… 

…laughter, storytelling, hiking and/or trying to chase Mr. Glad up Gumdrop Dome (in a loony-tune cartoon, some of us could take a running start up a sheer vertical rock face, hauling a low center of big gravity, our momentum so great that we actually overshoot the summit –beating him to the base – but unfortunately, not in one piece).

swooping in to join the fray
…the terrible joy 
of ecstatic hummingbirds 
a-feeding.

Coming into glory for Pascha.

friends, my garden, ,


Yes, there are still lots of flowers in my life. I’m trying to get the house — at least the downstairs — clean in time for Pascha so that I can bring in some flowers and have the whole thing look good and festive together.

It’s been raining, and that makes the plants look refreshed and happy. This is the first time the gaudy bearded irises have bloomed. I mostly like them for their color; otherwise they are a bit messy looking for me.

 

 

 

 

The tulips are still blooming. Every night they close up, and in the daytime they open up more and more. But none of the petals have fallen off yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Dutch iris bed, these pale yellow-and-lavender flowers dominate the view for a few weeks, and later on when they are spent the cobalt variety open up.

Centranthus ruber

Our friend Art has a nursery in his back yard, and a few months ago he gave me this Centranthus ruber plant that he had propagated. It took forever to recover from being transferred into the pot in which it still lives, but now it is blooming, and coming into its common name of Red Valerian.


It appears that the kale, and arugula in the background, are making their bid for Tallest Blossoms in the Garden. About the time we turn the calendar page to May they’ll be out of there and tomato plants will be in their place, so I’m letting them have their days in the sun – and rain.

Forget-me-Nots, calla lilies, cyclamen and daffodils — I’m so happy to see them, I’m not worried at all about the hours and days of garden work that will need to be done once the rain stops. A lone and miniature red salvia bloom also greeted me this afternoon, and I can’t recall even noticing what were surely profuse weeds behind it.

In only a few days the ground may dry up enough for me to dig around, and the joy of the feast will strengthen me to do it — in every way we’ll be in Bright Week!