From Trailer Park to Country Club

Book Review

2010-09-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

Hola, readers! I was assigned by my book group to report on the book I'm reading, "Surprised By Hope," by N. T. Wright. It's a fascinating and dense theology, and I've found it ... well ... surprising and hopeful. Here's my take on it:
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LIFE AFTER LIFE AFTER DEATH: A NEW HEAVENS AND A NEW EARTH
(A review of N.T. Wright’s “Surprised By Hope”)

“Everyone who talks about Heaven ain’t goin’ there” says the old hymn. N. T. Wright takes this thought a few miles farther along: he avers that Heaven is not our final destination.

If we really read the Scriptural words of Jesus carefully, I think we have to admit that Wright is right. What did Christ mean when he talked about “a new heavens and a new earth”? What do we think we mean when we recite the credal words, “and He will come again to judge both the living and the dead; and His kingdom will have no end”?

Tom Wright contends that Scripture teaches us that the souls of the just will indeed be allowed to rest from their labors; but that everywhere in the New Testament it is proclaimed that the process doesn’t end with our bodies decayed and our souls resting on a fluffy cloud playing alleluias on a harp for all eternity (BORING!) ...

What we can read tells us that Jesus – the “first fruits” of the promise of eternal life – was raised bodily from death to life, and so shall we be, when he “comes again in glory.” Sleepers will awake, and the new heavens and new earth will be joined – and we shall see God.

If we believe this, Tom says, we can’t buy the image of the Pearly Gates and cloud-beds beyond.
If we believe Jesus when he said the Kingdom is at hand, this sort of negates the idea that we’ll all be transported to a meeting in the air and be carried off like space travellers to a place in the sky.

And here’s the clincher: if we believe Jesus, and understand that “these bones shall rise again,” as the old prophet put it, this puts a whole new light on the work we have to do in the present, on Earth.

The heresy that this world will simply cease to exist in any form, asks this question, then: why would the Spirit renew the face of the Earth? And why would it be important for us to work for the Kingdom to come? -- We could just let pollution and war and all the afflictions of the planet and the universe go on their merry ways; we’re bound for a different world.

But if we believe that “not all shall die; but the trumpet will sound; and we shall be changed, in the wink of an eye,” then it is an important task we have been given, to build up our world for the eternal life to come.

I’ll just end with a direct paragraphal quote from the final chapter of this book:
“The point of 1 Corinthians 13 is not that love is our duty: it is our destiny. It is the language Jesus spoke, and we are called to speak it so that we can converse with him. It is the food we’ll eat in God’s new world, and we must acquire the taste for it here and now. It is the music God has written for all his creatures to sing, and we are called to learn it and practice it now, so as to be ready when the conductor raises his baton. It is the resurrected life, and the resurrected Jesus calls us to begin living it with him and for him right now. Love is at the very heart of the surprise of hope; if we are people who hope as the resurrection encourages us to hope, we will be people enabled to love in a new way. Conversely people who are living by this rule of love will be people who are learning more deeply how to hope.”

It's the 5th of July -- Feelin' Independent!

2010-07-05T13:52:00.001-07:00

Hope you all had as nice a "4th" as we did. John and I hosted the neighborhood (3 houses) block party yesterday, and it was a fine success.

I made Pan Bagnat, a 2-hour creation of one sandwich – but what a Sammie! (Large baguette cut lengthwise, hollowed out a bit and brushed with a Dijon vinaigrette, and filled with Italian olive-oil-packed tuna, fresh basil leaves, sliced hardboiled eggs and tomatoes, thinly slivered red onion and bell pepper, and chopped Kalamata olives – drizzled with more vinaigrette; then you top off the loaf and press down heavily over all, tightly wrap it in Saran, and weight it; chill for a couple of hours – when it's time, you slice it thickly crosswise, and serve it forth). The neighbors brought prawn cocktails, jicama-cucumber salad, guacamole and crudites; John made Margaritas; and we finished off the three-hour meal on the deck with NY cheesecake topped with fresh macerated strawberries and blueberries: a red/white/blue salute.

Otherwise we are having as quiet a 3-day celebration as possible, resting up for the end of July festivities.

June was for me a month of preparation for the Reunion, and July will be more of the same; and while there have been a few little changes along the way, the plans are going very well indeed. We look to have between 50-60 people at the Big Picnic on July 31st; and John and I are hosting an Open House up here at the cottage on Sunday afternoon, as everyone is leaving – especially for those who have not yet visited in Boulder Creek, but everyone is welcome to come up for sandwiches and lemonade (or whatever) and hang out in our garden on the deck that afternoon, before going off to Real Life again.

(In August John and I will need a real vacation! We may just go back to Carmel Valley and spend some days enjoying The Quiet!)

We're so looking forward to having all of our dear ones together from near and far; it is one of the great blessings of this huge clan to be able to experience this Group Love-In every few years.

Bloggin, bloggin' along

2010-06-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

The RU grows ever nearer, and I spend a lot of time on the net planning and making lists. All is going well, but it is time-consuming (my ironclad excuse for not working on my memoirs, although I did write a few paragraphs this morning).

Summer is here at last, and we had Joe and Kathie and Josh up for a chicken and corn BBQ last evening. They brought us a wonderful gift: their neighbor is remodeling her kitchen (copycatting Kathie, who just had theirs done!) and was getting rid of a nice 3-year-old dishwasher; they nabbed it for us, to replace our horrible old built-in that came with the cottage. Our handyman crew of Mark and Del will be here tomorrow to install it and we are very grateful!

Today I start my water aerobics classes (twice a week) at a local club pool; and Saturday I did a full hour of Pilates training (including on that scary machine, the "Reformer" -- which John calls "The Enforcer") -- it was actually a lot of fun!

I hope everyone is getting as excited as I am about the end of July revelries in Carmel Valley; we can't wait to see you all.

Pomp and Circumstance in Junior High

2010-06-05T12:40:00.000-07:00

What celebrations! What glory! We grandparents are astounded!

You young whippersnappers may not realize this, but in my day, there were no Junior High Graduation Ceremonies. Oh, we celebrated, all right – whooped out the school doors and ran for home on the last day of school, slipped into old shorts and tee top outfits, raided the freezer for ice cream bars, and flopped on a lawn chair to plan nothing but the endless days of summer ahead of us.

Having attended the formal commencements of our two grand pre-high-schoolers, Danny and Josh, on Thursday, I'm here to tell the world that it's a whole new era.

Danny Drysdale's midday ceremony was out of doors at the Cabrillo College campus, south of Santa Cruz. He was part of a large graduating class, but the process ran very smoothly, on a sunny, breezy sports field (parents and grandparents to the bleachers, graduates to the chairs on the grass). Afterward, the Drysdale parents took us old folks out to a lunch celebration for Danny's posse of buddies, and their parents and grandparents, at a nearby pizza parlor – the boys behaved better than the adults! The restaurant owner came by our table to tell us that these kids (who hang out at his place often after school) were the best behaved bunch he'd ever had in his restaurant: kudos to Julie and Bryan and the other parents in attendance!

The Drysdale celebration was twofold: that day Stephanie (who is just finishing her four years of high school this June) had learned that she's been admitted as a freshman at the University of Washington in Seattle! She starts college in September, and will have her Uncle Frank and Aunt Linda as mentors in the northwest, and cousins-in-college Caitlin and Justin, as buddies.

After we elders checked in at a Ramada Inn in Marina and had a brief rest, we then regrouped and went to the gymnasium of a local high school for Josh's evening commencement ceremony. As we entered, Kathie asked one of Josh's teachers where we ought to sit (in the bleachers again, of course) to get good photos. He said, "Josh is going to be in the front row – he's one of the 20 students from this class being honored for high academic achievement at this school – so sit right over there near the front, on the left side." With prideful smiles, we marched over and got good vantage places.

When the ceremony began, and when Josh walked up to accept his award as one of the most improved scholars in his class over the past two years, we cheered loudly and cameras were put to good use.

Joe and Kathie took us all out to a beautiful stone-walled old restaurant near Carmel for a gala late supper; Josh took the head of the table and chose his drink and his pasta with lobster-and-shrimp sauce with great style and poise -- and topped his meal off with a rootbeer float!

Now our boys are headed for high school next September: great times ahead..... much work, and fun, and a few more carefree years of youth.

Summer Holiday #1

2010-05-29T11:52:00.001-07:00

Yay! Just in time for the big opening weekend of summertime, we have bright sunshine and warm air at last, up here in the Santa Cruz Mountains. My beloved and I celebrated with a walk in the village and breakfast at the Old Mountain Cafe (fresh squeezed OJ!) followed by espresso at Rainbow's End (great coffee, bad live folk music). The bad music was ameliorated by KPIG playing Van the Man's "Tupelo Honey" as we drove back up to our cottage.

It's been a long, wet, cold springtime, but I believe it's all over now. We're cleaning up the gas grill and marinating a steak -- and planning to spend the next two days on our redwood deck, figuring out how many shades of green our garden forest provides. It's a veritable full palette after all the rainwater that's been soaking into the loamy forest floor.

We've made good use of the springtime, however -- much fixing-up of the exterior and interior of the house, serious South-Beach dieting, good exercise programs begun and pursued. Now all of that can be done outdoors, adding to the pleasure of every moment.

Our thoughts are often focused on the coming reunion in Carmel Valley, and we're hoping that as many of the gang as possible can drive up here after it's over, to see the cottage, while in Cali -- especially those who have not yet had a chance to experience this environment. We'll have an open house on Sunday afternoon, August 1st, so wherever you are heading as you leave CV, please stop by for refreshments, a walk through our idyllic grounds, and laze in the sun on the back deck, before heading homeward.

How's everybody doing out there?

2010-05-11T16:47:00.001-07:00

I haven't spoken for a while, so here's a quick update: the diet is still going well; our health has really been good this winter and spring; I'm having weekly Pilates lessons from our therapist and next door neighbor Teresa; I had a root canal (not so good, but it's taken care of now); and John is in Connecticut.

Re that last bit: Stella and Eric are having a house party for the Soule clan this coming weekend, to celebrate and congratulate daughter Louise (aka Lou-Lou) on her graduation from McGill University up in Montreal. John had enough mileage points to fly back, and will be there until Sunday. Kathy, Dave, and Rowan are going to the party on Saturday, so Dad/Granddad will have a nice chance to visit with them too.

We've been fixing up the cottage here a little more: adding a very needed railing to the outside of the back steps, and another alongside some small steps leading from the front patio around to John's "studio" .... and are having some necessary spring gardening done also.

Our focus from here on through summer will be on the big family reunion in Carmel Valley at the end of July and the attendant visits from family members; in early September we hope to be able to go to Ireland with Eileen and Greg for a week; and in early October our friends Alfredo and Olga Bacchelli are coming to visit Boulder Creek for a few days.

Meanwhile, we've had a very cool spring season, and are longing for summer to arrive soon.

I trust you are all doing as well as we seem to be; add your comments below!

Phase 2

2010-04-25T16:44:00.000-07:00

Yesss! We got through the Dreaded Phase One of the South Beach Diet, with great results. Now heading into the longer stretch, adding just a little of the carb/sugar stuff at a time and watching the results in terms of how we feel (how hungry?) and what the scales say.

We are both feeling much better generally; and during those first two weeks we really were not hungry at all, as the diet is so well balanced. I think the main thing I missed was fruit (which we now are able to have) – and the evening glass of wine or highball (ditto).

We are still having bi-polar weather in our mountain aerie: today is clear, 80 degree springtime – and an Arctic storm is threatening us on Tuesday, the fourth in four weeks. Mind-blowing.

Getting old and forgetful is not nice: I found on Saturday that I have inadvertently let my California driver's license lapse. No use pointing out to the DMV that they failed miserably in not sending me a renewal notice (which is true); it's still my responsibility to keep the license up to date. So tomorrow morning bright and early we go to Capitola to see what I need to do now; that odious expedition will be leavened by having lunch with Julie, we hope, and doing a little shopping for some decent, comfortable lounge chairs for the back deck (if we can ever put them out and declare that summer is really here!)

Otherwise all is well in our cottage, as I hope it is in your own dear retreats.

MID TERM REPORT

2010-04-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

One week into the mandatory two-week "Phase One" of the South Beach diet: John has lost exactly twice as much as myself. That alone is enough to make me a militant feminazi! Why do men lose weight faster on a similar diet than women can?

But it is without doubt the easiest diet ever; if you follow the rules, you don't get hungry.

However, the second week has started and of course the water-loss weight was easy to drop – now comes the testing.

Exercise starts today with a Pilates session this morning and a real walk afterward.

Life's A South Beach

2010-04-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

Now that we are home again and settling back into a routine, John and I have begun the long delayed process of getting ourselves in better shape. I am signed up with our angelic neighbor next door, Teresa, for weekly Pilates sessions on Saturday morning; and John will re-up his daily one-hour morning walks.

We have also started the South Beach Diet program, which we followed a few years ago when it first became popular. At one week into Phase One, I can say a few words about this process.

First of all, good old Dr. Agatston has updated a lot of his first suggestions for Phase One. the basic philosophy is unchanged: Phase One is designed to reorient your pancreas. That is, the meal plans that include plenty of vegetables and meat and eggs (but little else) during the first two weeks consist of foods that eliminate the effects of high-glycemic intake (a strong effect of a bad diet). In lay jargon: sugar's gotta go. The original plan, which consisted mainly of a lot of eggs, very lean beef and chicken and fish, and unlimited amounts of green vegetables (and some rather gross sugarless "desserts"), was boring and repetitive – and thousands of dieters must have let Dr. A know about that. His new list of allowed foods in Phase One has expanded greatly over the past few years: it now includes other types of lean meats (pork and lamb loin, for instance); tomatoes and many other low-sugar vegetables; and more interesting interim snack foods (2 or 3 required daily between meals).

Working with the new guidelines, I've been able to make much more interesting menus up for lunches and dinners (but breakfast is still very eggy).

Our pleasant habit of a couple of highballs before dinner is now converted to a glass of John's discovery when he was in India: Lime Soda. This is nothing more than club soda with a good squeeze of fresh lime juice, a small dash of salt, and plenty of ice. It's really quite tasty. I'm going to try adding some crushed fresh mint leaves (we have plenty growing in our herb garden).

Have we lost weight yet? Yes indeed; I won't catalog the numbers here, but you can be assured that the diet is working. Well, they always work pretty well for the first week or so; I'll report back later on our future results.

Easter in Paradise

2010-04-04T10:40:00.001-07:00

I have decided that we will want to spend every Holy Week from now on in this fair old city of ours. The experience of the celebration of the three days before Easter, at Trinity parish, is not just aesthetically beautiful – it is a real renewal for the spirit, better than Spring Cleaning. From Thursday's Paschal Meal celebrated with about 100 people in the Guild Hall, to Friday's solemn chanting of the Passion narrative according to John, set to 16th-century music, to last evening's Lighting of the New Fire and candlelit service in the church – culminating in Alleluias and bright light – all was beautiful.

The words of our preacher-woman still lie safe in my heart's memory: Within the kernel of every sad "Nevermore" lies the whisper of "Always."

We send out hopes for joy and peace to all of you, and all our love:
Mom and John

Marching Out

2010-03-24T15:07:00.001-07:00

OK, so it's a hokey tagline; but the entire month has passed by without an update, so get ready.

I've been keeping my Lenten resolution pretty well, I think: only have felt twinges of guilt very occasionally, and squashed them immediately. (Do I have to start up with the guilt again as soon as Easter is here?)

At least I have gotten the ball rolling on some procrastinated matters: I had a first Pilates session with our expert next door; I've applied to the local ecumenical-church-sponsored food bank to take a volunteer position of some sort with their nonprofit agency and have a meeting scheduled for after Easter. I've found a local pool that offers aqua aerobics classes twice a week beginning in June and will sign up as soon as they are open. And for those of you who are sartorially minded, I am getting my long-neglected hair cut and styled at one of the best salons in Santa Barbara, as we arrive in our fair city the end of this week.

Yes, we leave tomorrow for the long drive down to visit my siblings and spend Holy Week and Easter in Santa B. On this weekend, I will be on retreat at La Casa de Maria (and will have a massage while there, to benefit the arthritis problems) ... and John will be in Altadena visiting his siblings – we both return to SB on Sunday afternoon. We'll do some visiting with friends during the coming week, and then observe the Triduum Weekend (Thurs.-Sat.) of Holy Week at services at our dear Trinity parish. Easter we'll celebrate with Frank and Melissa; and then we will return to our cottage in the woods early the following week.

The day that we get home, we both begin the long-delayed South Beach Diet regime (while John continues his 3-mile daily walks and I continue my range-of-motion and Pilates exercises).

Dear readers, wish us luck and pluck, as we pledge to be gorgeously svelte for the big reunion in Carmel Valley this summer – and beyond!

The Longest Month

2010-03-01T11:07:00.000-08:00

March always looks as though it will go on forever. After the short and very full month of February (so many birthdays, our anniversary, holidays) I always face March with some trepidation. It's usually a grey, half-wintery time, and it's the season of Lent – not a time for celebrating.

This year, I hope to make it a month of contemplation, quiet meditation, and a new Lenten practice. Leenie informed me that a newsletter she'd received recommended "giving up" something that you DON'T LIKE. Thinking that over, I decided that there is something I really don't like within myself: Guilt.

So I am giving up guilt for Lent this year. "Can you really do that?" asked my daughter who knows me so well. I had to admit I didn't know. However, two weeks into the season I am doing pretty well with it. Whenever a twinge of my bugaboo begins to sneak past the barricades, I halt it in its tracks with "Hey, get outta here, I gave you up for Lent." I have to say, it feels pretty wonderful!

Of course I have a full month of days ahead to keep my resolve, before Easter morning dawns on April 4th.

I've started back at writing the memoir again, which helps a lot. It is a good place to exercise my willpower about the guilt thing too: writing a memoir requires a lot of soul-searching, and it can be very easy to wallow in regret (for things done and things left undone). "No wallowing!" I yell at myself when it crops up, "you gave that up!" This makes writing about my past a lot easier, I can tell you.

Maybe by the time Easter dawns, I will have a lot more words committed to my opus – and a new freedom of spirit as well.

Celebrating Love and Life!

2010-02-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

L'chaim, y'all! We celebrated 35 years of marriage with an Anniversary Eve dinner on Sunday, February 14th – a most appropriate day for lovers ..... and lovers of fine food. Below is the menu; and what follows is a pictorial description of the process, for the true Foodies in this readership. You must forgive the sloppy pictorial placement; I'm still learning.There were some other good shots I couldn't seem to download here, also. If you would like to se the full photo album, let me know and I'll send you a KodakGallery link.
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Beef Wellington Dinner Soulé (Music: "Die Fledermaus, Act I")

Candlelight Cocktail Hour:
Moet & Chandon Champagne Imperial

Primo:
Steamed Artichoke / Aioli Dipping Sauce
Baguette Slices / Acqua Minerale

Secondo: Beef Wellington (Boeuf en Croute)
with Black Truffle Sauce

Wine: Primitivo Zinfandel '2004, Salamandre Vineyards Santa Cruz
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The artichoke was steamed lightly and chilled the previous day. The aioli sauce was made ahead and chilled also (it is simply a mixture of good mayonnaise, minced garlic, and fresh lemon juice to thin to a smooth consistency).

The Beef Wellington recipe we used was an amalgam of Craig Claiborne, Julia Child, Epicurious.com, Tyler Florence, and Gordon Ramsay.
Here are step-by-step photos of the process:

Searing the meat:

Putting it all together:

A Messy Process:

.... but absolutely delicious and well worth the work.

On Being: Journal Musings At 74

2010-02-06T12:20:00.000-08:00

February 5, 2010

Today is the eve of my birthday; I should write something in my blog about what it's like to enter my 75th year of life, eh? All those years of living ought to yield some little nuggets of wisdom, one would think. I'll just do a sort of stream-of-consciousness exercise to see where I stand today.

I believe that Time is irrelevant; it takes as long as it takes to learn something, to accomplish a task, reach a goal, become able to cope with situations as they arise. I've learned that I can be so wrong, for so long, about what I believe to be true, and then see the light at last. I've found that it is possible to do a lot of damage to yourself and others and still find the strength to stop, change, and – most unbelievably – be forgiven and still loved. I have experienced that there must be a force (some call it a Guardian Angel) that protects fools who dance along the precipice – else, what has kept my feet from slipping into the abyss? And if Time really is irrelevant, then I think my experience of temporal universe is a thin veil, a beautiful theatre scrim that will one day be raised: and I can't wait to see the full production.
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February 6, 2010

A wise monk has said that gratefulness is the heart of prayer. In that case, my heart is full of prayer on this day marking my entry into my 75th year of life.

I'm supremely grateful for many gifts:
– I still have my five senses fairly intact
– I treasure the memory of every single year of my life
– I love this earth, and especially the plot of ground that has been given to me late in life, this cottage and small garden in the redwoods
– I'm thankful to all who went before me (my parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents – even the ones I've never met, but can see in some of my children)
– I'm especially grateful for the gifts of Faith, Hope, and Love with which I have been blessed.

Yes, I'm grateful for another year of life and love, and for every day that may be left to me to glory in Being. As the good Rabbi Heschel hath said: Just to be is blessing; just to live is holy.

apres moi, le deluge

2010-01-24T11:50:00.001-08:00

It never stops: we have another storm coming in this afternoon, stronger ones tomorrow and through Wednesday. All's well up here, though: and I'm getting a lot of writing time in!

Storm Track

2010-01-21T13:34:00.000-08:00

Now the storms have settled into a calmer pattern; NWS says rain, rain, rain, right through to next week, but with a sort of break on the weekend. Our cottage is still intact, watertight, and warm; so far no more electrical outages. I have no idea how the roads beyond or above Boulder Creek may be faring, but we're not going to fare forth on them until Saturday afternoon – when we'll try to get down to Capitola to take Julie out for a belated birthday luncheon, and to stock up on Trader Joe's supplies before next week's storms move in.

I guess the El Nino predictions were on target, eh?

Just to update you on the denouement of the tree-toppling: after the electricity came back on in our park at 7 PM on Tuesday evening, John went down on Wednesday morning and retrieved the car and it's safely parked in the driveway now. I drove to the Post Office yesterday afternoon to mail off birthday cards and packages, and got caught in a sudden short thundershower with light hail -- but I was almost home as it hit, so no problem – grabbed the mail from our box at the foot of the hill and crawled the car back up to our driveway. Feeling I deserved a treat at that point, I pulled out a last slice of Trappist fruitcake from the box in the fridge, made some Gingerbread Spice tea, and shared teatime with John.

We had homemade chicken-vegetable soup last evening for dinner and went to bed before 10 PM because we never know when another electrical storm will interrupt our sleep. However, it was beautifully quiet all night, with light showers lulling us to slumber.

I've gotten a lot of writing and reading done this week, a great benefit of being housebound. We are so blessed to have this safe haven; rain and all, we just love being here.

And They Are So Right

2010-01-20T08:05:00.000-08:00

Flood Advisory
Hazardous Weather Outlook
High Wind Warning

Today...Very windy. Rain...locally heavy at times...and isolated thunderstorms. Some thunderstorms may produce gusty winds and small hail. Highs in the mid 40s to lower 50s. Southeast winds 30 to 45 mph...becoming south 20 to 30 mph with gusts to around 40 mph in the afternoon.
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We may lose power again ... lights flickering a bit already, and winds rising ... so sending out this bulletin while I can. More later when possible. We're warm and dry, but not goin' nowhere!

El Nino Viene

2010-01-19T10:31:00.000-08:00

It's raining gatos y perros! At long last the National Weather Service, so often a plaything of fate, has been right on target for California.

Our Monday (yesterday) was spent in tightening up our rough-weather plans: John tied down the carport/awning against the blown-umbrella effect of high winds; I inventoried our well-laid-in food supplies and noted a few little missing items. Around 11 AM, the man of the house drove down through light rains beginning, to pick up the necessaries in the village.

While he was out, the power followed suit: it went out, at around noon. After John had parked a half-mile down from our cottage and hiked up the rest of the way with the groceries, he regaled me with the reason for the sudden silence in our house. A lightly rooted oak tree had tumbled down across power lines and blocked Big Basin Way, the main route to our place from the village.

Fine; we change our day's plans. Now it's hot tea and reading in the big back room, where those lovely windows let in all the daylight there is available. Wrapped in lap-robes and warm with the coverage and the tea, we plowed through our well-selected pile of books chosen for this eventuality. Could be worse, eh?

As the light faded, our brave John donned slicker and boots and went down to the Bracken Brae entrance to see what could be seen: a lot of disgruntled workers standing around in the rain, waiting for a P G & E crane truck to lift the tree off of the wires. These poor peons were ready to do their work of cutting up and removing the big tree, and P G & E linemen were ready to restore our power. But meanwhile, they awaited and awaited the arrival of the crane.

Other local denizens were out prowling around too, and camaraderie abounded – but not light. So John came back up to the cottage, built a warming fire in the woodstove, and gratefully accepted a drink. I lit candles and set up the kitchen for a stovetop dinner, with camping lanterns and matches for lighting the propane stove.

Rain continued; and the power came on at 7 PM. We had dinner and went to bed; rain continued..... but not the predicted high winds (yet).

At 5 AM today, we were awakened by a powerful and spectacular thunderstorm; the reverberating booms echoed down our valley, reminding us of a similar great storm we once watched engulf the Stubai valley in Austria – as we discovered where Wagner got his musical ideas.

So now we are into Day 2 of the week of storms. If the NWS continues lucky, we are due for two or three more powerful storms, day by day, throughout the week. Whenever we have power up here I will try to update this blog, so stay tuned if you can.

Christmas At The Country Club, Again

2009-12-29T12:27:00.001-08:00

There's a very funny song that a local band, The Trailer Park Troubadours, has recorded, called "It's Christmas At The Trailer Park Again" -- and we've had a good few of those, in the past! But now, with our second winter holiday season in the cottage coming to a close, we are cozy and happy, and not a bit sick, as we were last year at this time.

Our sincere little Douglas fir and its accompanying Advent Wreath with the Christ Candle (see above, taken Christmas Eve) were our main decorations in the parlor; and we needed no outside lights this year, thanks to the major lighting wars our two sets of neighboring houses were carrying on! (Peter's efforts you can see above; Ted & Teresa's display was so huge and covered so much territory in their front garden and on the house that we couldn't capture the whole light-show with our camera.) Suffice to say that NASA probably used our little block as a guide marker for the satellites.

But our front door was adorned with a lovely, fruit-decorated fresh evergreen wreath that Julie bought for us; and candles were lit in the parlor and the little kitchen. We had a festival of lights of our own sort.

Christmas Eve revels brought Julie, Bryan, DannyD and Stef – accompanied by her Highly Touted Jaque – to our door, for a leisurely afternoon of buffet-lunching on black bean soup and tomato-basil bisque, breads and cheeses, and a fabulous pumpkin cheesecake that Julie baked and brought along. Jaque won points in our book by bringing a big basket of meats and sausages for our freezer, a gift from his parents who own the best gourmet butcher shop in this area, the Corralitos Market near Watsonville.

We spent that evening by ourselves, with fire and candles all lit, listening to our CD of Christmas Eve vespers, "A Ceremony of Nine Lessons and Carols," from King's College/Cambridge. (We were too stuffed from the late lunch to eat any dinner!)

On Christmas Day in the morning we drove down to our church in Scotts Valley for Mass; and then we spent a quiet afternoon opening gifts traversed from afar, with a bit of tea and Dresdener Stollen (gift from Leenie) – and had a delicious baked ham dinner and music from our Munich Choir's great "Messiah" recordings.

The time has been quiet since then; we went to an afternoon movie with Julie yesterday ("It's Complicated") and will also have a peaceful and quiet New Year's weekend coming. Two old student friends of mine from UCSB days are driving up from San Jose tomorrow for a visit, but will leave before New Years' Eve skies darken. In the evening we'll share some simple hors d'oeuvres and champagne "a deux" – with our recording of "Die Fledermaus" – and go to bed when it's midnight (in the Rockies, most likely!)

I hope all have had as lovely a holiday season; if you care to share your experiences in the Comments segment below, we'd love to hear about it.

Happy New Year to all, and to all a good 2010! Much joy coming with our Reunion in midsummer, the highlight of our hopes for the next 365 days.

A Musical Education

2009-12-19T10:52:00.000-08:00

I have to tell you all about a fantastic evening we had with Julie last night. Some of DannyD's friends are in a "School of Rock" band that started up in the Aptos area when D was still in grade school. Last night they had a gig at a local folk/rock and Mexican restaurant venue up here in Felton – Don Quixote's – as an opening act for their teachers' Irish band, "The Wild Rovers." Julie came up and got us and we drove down to the club, where several of Ju's girlfriends (whose kids all grew up together with Danny) gathered with us. The place was packed (this show has lots of area fans, apparently) – and we found out why!

Pitchers of margaritas and plates of nachos and fajitas were consumed; and as the show started we learned that a grade-school group would be the first of the two opening acts.

The teacher who is the leader of the Rovers and the instigator of all this fun at his school introduced the kids, and these pint-sized 5th and 6th graders (and I swear, some only in third or fourth grade) took the stage by storm. The noise was deafening (Julie had commandeered a big table for our group right down in front) and utterly amazing. The girl-singer, a cute little maid with nut-brown hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose, led the band with an infectious joy and a belting growl worthy of Janis; their bass player, a tiny Hawaiian kid with a peaked cap and a righteous attitude, twanged his pale blue axe mightily; and the audience was roaring approval before the first set barely got started!

Then on came the "older team" – led by Danny's long-time best friend/neighbor, 11-year-old Sean Collins (Irish indeed, he is) – they strode onstage, adjusted the mike heights up, and played another "bringing down the house" set. Young Collins knocked us all out; his father told us he's "had the moves" since he picked up a stick with grooves in it at the age of two and started playing rhythm air guitar along with his older brother's riffs. He's famous in this area and received all due respect and chuffs from his audience last night.

After that ripping start, the kids came down and scoffed up more chips and salsa and then gathered in groups on the floor in front of the stage, or squeezed in with us at our table, and attended a long and wonderful full set by their teachers – full of Gaelic standards amped up a-la-Pogues, with plenty of audience participation on the "Oh, nay, never" choruses, and the rapt attention of every kid in the place, as they gazed up in hero worship at their mentors. One cute young blond girl just couldn't sit still; she was up and doing Irish step-dancing with verve and vigor, over to the side of the room from time to time! Young Collins sat by me and watched every tiny move his guitar teacher made with obvious attention and glee – once in a while turning to me with a grin that said: "Isn't he great?!"

This is education for life, folks; I was just overwhelmed to see it in action. Dave Lambert will know what I am talking about: he's preaching the gospel mightily in his own village, bless him! Yes, musicians are a rowdy lot and can get into a lot of trouble; but in my opinion, their music is capable of saving the best of them, in the long run. Most of these kids will not go on to become the next Clapton or Hendrix (or, I pray, Joplin); but they're learning a lifetime joy that no one can take from them: it will bring happiness to them and to their friends who get to share the love of music with them, over the long years of adult struggle and achievement. They are a favored and happy few; Julie has been very lucky to have an environment such as this in which to bring up her children.

In fact, all of our dear kids grew up in a love of music of all kinds; I see that it has comforted and sustained them and brought them joy over the years. Even when you can't play, you can draw sustenance and great fun from those who do.

God bless all musicians, where ere they may shine; their songs are as sweet as the fruit of the vine!

Having Fun

2009-12-15T10:47:00.000-08:00

Well, I must have been having fun: time flew. Actually, I've been having medical tests -- nobody can find nothin' -- to determine the meaning and essence of the arthritic? nerve? muscular? pain that has been plaguing me for a couple of months. We'll get to the bottom of this, some day, I hope.

Meanwhile, Christmas preparations are also gobbling up time – as is probably true for everyone this month. Why did I decide to make baked-gifts this year? Why, why? Oh, I remember: it was those many pleas for Mom's Cookies.

It's been verrry cold up here in the woodsy mountains; and while it's awfully cozy to gather around the woodstove in the evening, once the fire dies down we are most sincerely grateful for the great down-alternative comforter that was our housewarming gift last year. We've had no snow yet, despite threats of same; but the way the winter storms move in one after another, we'll no doubt be graced with white-frosted pines soon.

We pray that everyone is staying warm and well as the cookies get baked, the packages posted, and the house decked with boughs of whatever you've got.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-21T12:33:00.001-08:00

What is everyone doing about the Feast?

Visiting The Ol' (Same-Ol') Hometown

2009-11-03T16:50:00.000-08:00

I'm constantly amazed at how nothing changes in Santa Barbara, whenever I go back to visit. It seems to me that people there are like the proverbial "fly in amber." I suppose that is because it's a very comfortable place to live; I hope everyone is comfortably happy, as well.

It is a great place to visit, to be sure. I had ten beautiful, sunny days there.

The first part of my sojourn was filled with meeting Leenie's writer friend Sarah Dunant. The two presentations she gave, at La Casa de Maria (for a select group of supporters of the retreat center) and at the UCSB multidisciplinary department (for the faculty and students of religious studies, Italian literature and Renaissance Art history, as well as the general public) were excellent and very well received. Sarah and I had a nice morning together, between the lectures – with a great coffee-chat at a local bakery and a Grand Tour of tourist locations.

After Sarah left, and with John on his way back to Hoboken and Connecticut for visits with family there, I went off to La Casa by myself for a weekend retreat at the luxurious mansion they call the Immaculate Heart Center for Spiritual Renewal.

Renewed in both spirit and body, I went to the All Saints' Day celebration at my beloved Trinity Parish, and had a lunch and serious chat with parish friends. The rest of the three days before John returned to CA, I spent visiting with other good friends in the town, communing with my sister and brother, and catching up on shopping. I also saw my dear doctor about the pains I've been having in my left hip and leg; and in two days she had me sent for a hip x-ray and an MRI at local facilities. The diagnosis of osteoarthritis of hip and leg will be treated with Dr. Parent's firm prescription: "Get up and get moving, girl!" .... I've begun a daily walking program in conjunction with John's already-set schedule; and I'll search for a facility up here in the mountains or in Santa Cruz that offers water aerobics – these are the two best forms of "getting moving" that are recommended for this common form of arthritis.

So when John got back to the Left Coast, we took my sister out to dinner for her birthday; and headed home to our mountains on Friday morning.

It has been a joy to come home again. Our winter-prep chores were finished before we left for this last trip of the year; the logs are piled high for evening fires, all the battening-down is done, the warm-woolies are out of storage and ready for wearing. And it's certainly cool enough here to warrant the use of these!

We are ready to hibernate for the winter now. We welcome visitors (one or two at a time, please – or there are a few hostelries available if you come with a crowd!) We'll be hosting the West Coast family Thanksgiving dinner this year – my sibs are coming up for that week, and the families of Joe and Julie will join us on the holiday. After that we expect to have a very quiet Advent and Christmas, which is just to our taste.

I hope you all are ready for a "long winter's nap" and a great and festive holiday season.

Santa Barbara Again

2009-10-28T12:37:00.000-07:00

We are on expedition this week, staying with my sis in Santa Barbara and attending Eileen's friend Sarah Dunant's presentations here for her book, "Sacred Hearts." The weather is showing off for the visiting Londoner; today is clear and sparkling, with views from the mountains to eternity. I just drove Sarah on The Tour, down through East Beach and on back across the Riviera, with a stop for a bakery break in town. More later with photos.

The Rains Came

2009-10-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

.... and they are planning to stay for the season, it seems. This morning we woke to showers; so it will be an indoors day. Our deluge last week was a harbinger of a very wet El Nino season, apparently. That is fine, if it doesn't overdo.

We have a lovely at-home week ahead; and next Monday, we will be off for 10 days in Santa Barbara (for me) – and for John, 5 of those days will be in the East, visiting the Lamberts in Hoboken and Stella in CT.

Our first days in Santa Barbara will bring to town author Sarah Dunant, Leenie's good friend, who will be lecturing on her new book, "Sacred Hearts," at La Casa de Maria and the U of C/Santa Barbara's Department of Religious Studies. I was privileged to set these connections up for Sarah, and am very excited about meeting her at last and hearing her presentations.

When John goes East, I will have a weekend retreat at the Casa's guest house; then some time to spend with my sister and brother; and when John returns, a birthday celebration with my little sister – before we return home on November 6th.

Once we're home again, we hope to stay put for the rest of the winter season! We're going to host the West Coast Thanksgiving Dinner this year: siblings are coming up to Boulder Creek too, for that. So we'll settle in with plenty of logs for the wood stove, a larder well stocked with provender, and happy hearts.

Storm Warning

2009-10-11T15:55:00.001-07:00

NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE BULLETIN,
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2009, 3:00 PM PST –

"HEAVY RAIN AND POTENTIALLY HIGH WINDS
EXPECTED TO ACCOMPANY A SIGNIFICANT STORM
EXPECTED LATE MONDAY INTO EARLY WEDNESDAY...

A POTENT STORM SYSTEM...ESPECIALLY FOR OCTOBER
...WILL MOVE INTO CENTRAL AND NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
BEGINNING LATE MONDAY AND CONTINUING INTO EARLY
WEDNESDAY. THIS WILL BE A VERY DRAMATIC
CHANGE FROM THE TYPICAL LATE SUMMER PATTERN
THE AREA HAS BEEN
EXPERIENCING."

---------------------------------
So, dear friends, we are battening down our hatches much earlier than we expected to do. Last year our first big storm of the season came in right on target as predicted, on Halloween. We thought, "Fine, we have a month to get wood chopped and stacked, make sure the cottage and the Studio are watertight, cover and put away outdoor furniture, etc." But noooo!

Today we went out after church and ransacked all the Scotts Valley shopping center stores for provender and supplies, because up here at the top of our valley we are in danger of being marooned by falling trees and slippery or washed-out roadways. There is a strong possibility of electrical outage, so we've equipped ourselves with lots of candles and lanterns; our wooly sweaters are ready to don; and we've loaded in supples to keep ourselves afloat, happy and cozy, for several days.

Yes, it's rather exciting; and our neighbors are available and also well stocked; plus, they have generators, so we can call on them for help if things are rough for too long.

I'm off to put a pot-roast on to bake for dinner on this cool and overcast afternoon; tomorrow morning I'll make up a pot of soup to simmer on the back of the stove. We'll keep you posted, while we have internet access!

The Soule Party Pix

2009-10-05T17:22:00.000-07:00

If anyone would like to see Mark's multiplicity of joint-birthday-party photos, let me know via email or via comment on this blog, and I'll send you a link.

Soule Sibs Selebrate Sixty & Seventy

2009-10-03T08:02:00.000-07:00

We are off to Altadena this morning, for a little dinner party to mark John's 70th and Marie's 60th birthdays – both just past. Leesaah is hostessing; a couple of Marie's friends will be there, as well as the usual LA-area family members.

On Sunday John and I will drive northward, to one of the last unspoiled little beach towns on our coast, Cayucos – situated at the north end of Morro Bay and the beginning of the Big Sur. The hamlet has an old but serviceable hotel right on the water's edge, and one of the finest restaurants anywhere on the California coast, Hoppe's Garden Bistro – where we'll have dinner Sunday evening to celebrate the eve of my dear one's landmark birthday. On the natal day, we hope to make our leisurely way up that spectacular Highway 1 to Boulder Creek.

So by the evening of October 5th we should be gratefully back at home.

Bringing It All Home

2009-09-27T07:42:00.000-07:00

What am I going to do with three (good-sized) notebooks filled with impressions of my first 18 years of life – plus a whole lotta bloggin' posts?

After I've given myself this quiet weekend to get reoriented and back into The Routine, I begin on Monday morning. All the photos need to be sorted and catalogued; the notebook material must be edited and put into digital memory form; and the outline of the book will be a beginning.

We have made a pact with one another that three hours every weekday morning will be sacred time for John and for me.... no intrusion is to be made on each other's "working territory" during that period. We rise fairly early, so there will be time at the beginning of the day for wake-up coffee and a quiet chat in the back bedroom, watching the sunlight tilt into our mountain lair as it gilds the evergreen-tips with light and then washes across the hilltops that rise above the ravine of our creek. There will be time for a good breakfast and the usual day's-beginnings routine. But the hours from 9 AM to Noon shall be sacred-time.

I have never written a book; I barely know how to begin to do something like that. I don't know whether there's a whole book in this effort, or a small essay, or something in between. What I do know is that I have a lot to tell. Being in place, where my life really began so many years ago, has really reinforced my intuition that I had a start in life that was rare and beautiful, and that has sustained me through all the long years since that time. I think that's worth critiquing, assessing and praising; I will give it my best efforts, at any rate.

I know that writing this will require "a clear eye and a cold nose" – as My Dog would put it. The honesty will be very hard to come by, for me; but there is no other reason to write a memoir than to express as objectively and honestly as you know how to do, what memory has taught.

Wish me bon voyage, my dear ones; the actual trip to Ann Arbor was only a launching upon a very wide sea.

The Best Part

2009-09-24T16:55:00.001-07:00

The best part of any odyssey is coming home, as Ulysses and I know. I had a safe pair of flights (Detroit to Dallas, Dallas to San Jose – and then home to Boulder Creek by car, with John). All is well, and all will be well. I will do a short recap of my overview of this wonderful trip in a day or so.

Monday, Monday – Can't Trust That Day

2009-09-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

And this is why I couldn't trust Monday, September 21st: the Autumn Equinox came in like a lion yesterday in Michigan – and elsewhere. Looking at these skies, I was convinced finally that I would not be wise to drive north to my dear Ontario lakeside. Looking at the weather news this Tuesday morning, I see why Michigan didn't even catch the worst of this new weather situation: Atlanta GA was under water overnight last night. Apparently the swath of hot, humid weather, heavily laden with storm-cloud, has swept up from the Gulf, without any help from a hurricane.

I'm settled in at Ann Arbor for the duration, now. When I woke yesterday morning, Claire's sub-basement rooms were so damp and dark that I was very glad to be packing up and moving out; in fact, I now wonder whether my trouble with arthritis pain last week might well have been caused by dampness there that I hadn't noticed. Now that I've moved to an air-conditioned hotel room, the pain is actually negligible! So it was high time I moved.

I'm spending the muggy (outside) day today catching up on my blog, making notes in my journal for "fodder" for the memoirs, and generally taking things pretty easy.

I've been reading through some of the later writing exercises I did before I left California (brought the notebooks along to see how they were standing the test of time) – and I have to say I think they are not too bad, as vignettes of my childhood experiences. Of course a writer who edits his own work has a fool for an editor; but it just makes me feel good to know I've gathered so many little "snapshots" to look through when I go home and begin the real task of setting it all down in deathless prose, for posterity.

"Sunday Morning, Very Bright....

2009-09-22T08:17:00.000-07:00

".... I read my book by colored light / that came in through the pretty window-pictures." I thought of that lovely song about going to church with mother, as I got dressed to go to St. Thomas the Apostle Church for 10:45 AM Mass. I had debated long about where to go to worship this particular Sunday morning. I had considered St. Mary's Chapel, the Catholic Newman Club parish for U of M students – I often attended services there in my past Catholic youth – and had also noted that there was a very nice-sounding Episcopal parish just around the corner from the place I was staying. But in the end, I really felt drawn to worship once again in the building in which I'd first learned to pray the ancient prayers of the Roman Missal.

As I was driving over to Kingsley Street, I found myself humming "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," and chuckled to myself: "I'll bet I'm not going to hear that in St. Thomas this morning!" Never bet against The Creator, folks: as I walked into the church, the organist was rendering a rousing variation on the melody for "Eine Feste Burg," to which Uncle Martin Luther had set such mighty words. Thanks, dear Pope John Twenty-Three, for opening those windows!

In many ways, I found the St. Thomas of today had not changed that much, however: I noted the usual lack of friendly greetings or welcoming smiles (to which I've now become so gladly accustomed in Episcopal parishes); the vast population of little children were yelling and fidgeting next to their parents (no parish Sunday School here, those kids need to learn to genuflect and fold their hands, somehow); and it's still hard to get an aisle-hugger to let one into the occupied pew. However, as I was resigning myself to squeezing in behind one of the big marble pillars that support the basilica form of the building, a fellow who was saving a place for someone shoved over a bit and indicated that there was actually room for one more on his side of the pillar. I gave him a big smile, and sat down.

I'd forgotten what great acoustics that basilica has got: and now the parish has a superb organist and a really fine choir to take advantage of that blessing. Listening to the coda strains of "A Mighty Fortress" I thought that I could not believe I'd ever dared to set my fingers and toes on that instrument – but I guess I did, back in the day. Ah, the hubris of youth. The choir, later in the Mass, sang a gorgeous version of Mozart's "Ave Verum Corpus," and I remembered that we'd been taught to sing that, in Latin, when I was in choir there – along with how to read shape-note Gregorian chant. It was a privilege I have only appreciated much later in life.

It was very moving to receive the sacraments this Sunday in the church where I'd made my First Communion – then with my little hands placed palm to palm in pious prayer, returning to my pew with Sister's guidance, placing my hands then over my face, as I tried to imagine Jesus actually being inside my soul (and with no clue in the world as to what Transubstantiation meant – as is ever true, world without end, Amen).

I prayed, there, for my mother, who had instilled the faith that yet sustains me in my latter age, for my father (whose different way of faith did the same), and for "everyone for whom I've been asked to pray, down through my ages".

As we were dismissed and began filing out, the man who'd moved over to make a little room for me in the pew turned to me and said, "I hope you have a lovely Sunday." (Knock me down with a wet noodle!)

---------------------
After church, I decided to make a full-nostalgia day of it, and drove out to the old roadhouse near Lakewood where my parents used to take me with them occasionally when they went out for a cocktail: Weber's Lounge. Of course it's now a huge convention hotel and very fancy restaurant facility; but for $9.25, I had a generous brunch buffet meal (quite conventional, as befits a convention center, but a steal at that price – and with fresh-squeezed OJ!)

I spent the rest of Sunday getting packed up a bit and ready to move out of Claire's Guesthouse, and in trying to decide whether I could go up to the old vacation haunt of my youth in Kincardine, Ontario, on the shore of Lake Huron. But the weather reports were ominous as evening wore on, and it looked unlikely that I would leave Ann Arbor .... ("Oh, no, you can't escape!" I thought once again, history repeating itself.) But I resigned myself to deciding on Monday morning what I would do – and at least now I had self-determination on my side, as had not been the case when I was 18 years old.

Come Saturday Morning ....

2009-09-22T05:34:00.000-07:00

This is Claire's Garden, where I spent a lovely Saturday afternoon.

"Come Saturday morning, I'm going away with my friend" ..... There's a beautiful song (written for a film score, I believe) that goes like that; I think about it occasionally when I wake on a nice Saturday and realize I can do anything I'd like, all day. This was one of Those Days. And here I was in my old home town, on a U of M home-game Saturday – staying at the house of a philosophy prof who teaches at the rival school coming to town: Eastern Michigan University, in nearby Ypsilanti (EMU, love it!) I didn't dare to hum "Hail To The Victors" around that house.

It was a gorgeous morning, clear and bright, with a few little white cloud-puffs drifting across the blue sky. Mine hosts had gone out early, to shop the natural-foods and farmer's market circuits; I had a healthy breakfast (the only kind this B and B provides), and decided to enjoy the quiet while I could. I spent some quality time writing up the great "research" I'd done the day before, visiting my roots in Lakewood and Dexter. When I got hungry for lunch, I realized the Big Game was well started and it was safe to venture out. I drove over to my beloved Washenaw Dairy and got a "black-and-white malt" – the best kind, made with vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and lots of malted powder. Back at the guesthouse, I found a garden chair and put it out on the lawn under a tree; grabbed a good book and my journal, and settled in for a quiet afternoon in the garden. It was a lovely, restful time, after the running around I'd done on Friday.

So I don't understand why, by early evening, I was feeling rocky. I was not at all hungry, feeling alternately cold and too warm, and with a pretty upset tummy. Bah. I got into comfortable clothes, crawled under the covers in bed, and lay there feeling basically blah – trying to read, unsuccessfully.

There was a knock on the door: my "landlady" – bearing a bowl of steaming hot homemade vegetable soup, the gleanings of early foraging at the farm markets. Would I like to have it?

You can never know why, when or how such works of mercy come into your life; but that soup saved mine, that evening! I ate some of it, fell asleep early, and woke feeling great on Sunday morning.

An Excellent All-American Adventure: Day 4, #2

2009-09-21T10:48:00.001-07:00

And here's the story of my afternoon in a small village that has waited for me to come back. I'll take the notes directly from my small journal for Friday:

It turns out I was quite right about Dexter; it hasn't changed much in 55 years, and that was very consoling for me, this Friday afternoon. After I journalled about my old homestead for a while and finished my soup/half-sandwich lunch, I asked for directions to the mill, and it was just around the corner and up a couple of country blocks, across the NY Central rail tracks. As I drove up to it I thought, "YEESSS! It is the place we always came for apples, cider, and .... mmmm .... donuts, when I was a kid."

I parked in the lot and walked around snapping pictures, trying to catch on film all my good old memories. Looking down at the entrance to the little sales room, I recaptured them in my mind immediately; and it was just the sort of day that would have drawn us to come out for a drive in the 1950s: clear, slightly warm but with a cool breeze, and great puffy clouds scudding across deep blue skies.

I walked on down to the entrance, the heady scent of just-picked apples and warm cinnamon donuts drawing me hungrily nearer. The shelves inside the barn were laden with jams, honeys, and every manner of apple-y thing you can stuff into a jar. I joined the line of people slowly snaking around to the service counter, and when it was my turn I ordered a glass of ice-cold cider and a cinnamon donut. Just one of each, mind you: I am not such as pig as some people might think.

Sitting in the dappled sunlight on a bench near the rushing Huron River, absorbing this feast (it's what God orders up, when She comes to this part of Michigan) I was in Proust Heaven; no madeleine, no cafe au lait, ever conjured up better memories, I am sure of that. I channelled an autumn snapshot of my mother and dad sitting in the front seat of our Chevy with the racy aqua-and-white exterior, my brother in the back seat by one open window , myself on the other side, and little Melissa stuck in the middle (as was only right, she being the youngest) -- driving through the old back roads on a Saturday afternoon, singing silly songs ("Splot goes the spider against the wall" was our favorite; we made the words up to drive my mother crazy, to the tune of the equally silly Christmas ditty, "Up On The Housetop"). Don't ask. When we got to the cider mill, we'd pile out in a hurry and run down the slope toward that very same glorious scent of autumn harvest banquet that had drawn me back today.

As I reluctantly drove away, I got a bit lost on back byways (I think my eyes were a bit misty, perhaps) and I turned down a side road to make a U-turn and go back the way I'd come: and was immediately confronted by the startling image you see on the left. "Don't shoot, I'm only turning around" I muttered, backing and filling rapidly. You never know what you'll find in these backwoods, brothers and sisters! (I did take a very quick snapshot before speeding off and away; had to prove I'd actually seen it!)

In many months and years ahead, I'll be distilling all that I've experienced here this time, and trying to tie it to old pictures in my memory bank. (As Diane said, while we were reminiscing a couple of days ago: "Don't rush me, my memory bank is trying to access that data.")

One of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Goudge said it: "You cannot judge the value of what happens to you until many years afterwards. Then you see how one thing led to another, and how it was all – even the little trivial things, as well as the big ones – somehow necessary."

Fran's Adventures in Lakewood: Day 4

2009-09-20T17:06:00.001-07:00

I'm writing this immediately after visiting the home where I grew up. After the tour of Lakewood, I've driven on out to a nearby village called Dexter, and you'll see why, later. Anyway, this is a good place to sit in a coffeeshop and have a bite to eat and to try to absorb what has just happened. (The photo on the left is the front of my old home, 236 Mason Avenue, Lakewood/Ann Arbor, Michigan)

As I drove out Jackson Avenue toward Lakewood this morning, I was struck by the fact that I came upon the old subdivision so quickly; in my youth it seemed to me that we lived "way out of town" – how can the distances have shrunk so much? Suddenly, I was driving past Bethlehem Cemetery, where I and my siblings used to sneak over the fence and play around the old tombstones. And right beyond that hallowed ground, I came upon the turning into Lakewood, where an old gas station and general store always marked the entrance. Lo: the entrance was now marked by a very spiffy "Great Lakes Chocolate and Coffee Shop" – right where the old station once stood. Of course I had to stop in: it was 10 AM, aka "Cappuccino Time." As the co-ed mixed my capp, I said in my corniest old-folks voice: "I grew up in Lakewood 50 years ago, and used to come to a convenience store right here all the time." She told me that this was the actual building that had housed the station and the store, but (indeed) it had been vastly remodelled. "Do you still have an ice chest in the corner with Nesbitt's Orange Pop in it?" I queried archly. She looked a me with a "Who is this nutty old party, I wonder?" gaze and said, "We do carry orange soda, if you would like it." .... I accepted the cappuccino instead, and bought an "Ann Arbor News.Com" local paper (now published on Thursday and Sunday only, and believe me, not worth the newsprint it's printed on .... but then, maybe it never was). It was rather nostalgic to sit in there and glance through the poor remnant of my first example of journalism in childhood, idly wondering if they'd "hazmatted" all the dangerous pollution before establishing a coffee emporium herein.

After coffee, I drove into Lakewood, down the streets I used to ride my bike on, the streets where I learned to drive the Studebaker 4-on-the-floor when I was 15 ..... and I came to the old swamp. Hah: old swamp is now "Dolph Lake Park" and has a little dock there at the end of Lakeview Avenue (I hope not for swimming: eww, swamp creatures!) That dock is just where we used to launch out on our ice skates when the swamp waters were frozen hard; it was pretty bumpy ice, due to the reeds and roots poking up from the depths, but we were tough in those days. Just a bit further on, the old forest begins, as it did in my youth; and I saw paths like the one we would follow uphill to where gnarled old vines hung from mossy trees: we'd dare each other to swing out on those "ropes" like Tarzan. (Did I ever do it? Memory says, sure you did; but now, I'm not so sure. Imagine if the vines had not held: I'd be swimming with those Swamp Things now.)

Here is one of the paths through the woods; perhaps it's the one we would take to walk back in to where the blackcap raspberry thickets yielded those great breakfasts .... my brother and I would walk over there very early on a summer morning, before it got unbearably hot and humid, to gather the berries, haul them home, and eat them in big bowls with top-milk out of the glass milk bottles, and lots of extra sugar....

Wandering around back roads in my car, roads that were not extant when I was a child, I found my way back onto Lakeview Avenue. I drove up and around the corner where my girlfriend Alice Coleman's house still stands (the very corner where her evil boxer dog took a chunk out of my brother's leg as he biked past, one day); and there I was in front of my old home.

I parked the car, grabbed my camera and the photocopies I'd brought of old black and white pictures of the exterior of the house that my mother had taken with her Kodak in the early 50s, and hopped out. I was snapping away, when an old guy came around from the back of the building, where he had been power-washing the exterior. "Are you the owner of the house, sir?" I asked politely. "No, I'm just a friend, helping him get the place in order," he replied; "who are you?" I told him I'd grown up in this house, and did he think the owner might let me come inside? He assured me his friend would be happy to do so, and went to get him. A nicely dressed man came out and greeted me; I showed him the photocopies, and he was just delighted; he'd bought the house just a month earlier, and was thrilled to see what it had looked like back in the day. So he gave me a guided tour of my old home. It was a fascinating experience; you see, it was, and yet was not the place where my dreams often take me back. The rooms were in the same locations, but oh my, how much smaller they seem now! I gazed about the remodeled little kitchen, wondering how on earth my mother had fitted in a small table and chairs in the center, and had room to do her ironing on a pull-down board at one side of ths tiny (to me now) kitchen where I learned to bake and cook. Upstairs, my great bedroom with its alcove and window where I sat to read and dream, seemed no longer mine at all; the owner was using it as a home office, and he scanned my photocopies so he could keep a picture of the exterior for himself. I peeked in the room that was my parents' bedroom, and on the next floor up, looked at the loft that I'd helped my dad to renovate into a room for my brother. They were the same rooms; but yet they were not. I had thought I might cry, walking through all those memories; but all I felt was gratitude that the people who lived there after we were gone had kept the fine old place in such lovely shape after all these years..... No, it was not my childhood home any more; that place lives now only in my heart and soul.

When I left Mason Avenue, I needed a change of venue badly. I remembered that further out Jackson Avenue a road led a bit northward to the small village of Dexter; I thought it might not be as changed as Ann Arbor has become, so I decided to drive out and see if the old cider mill where we used to go on excursions in other autumns was still there. It is; and after lunch I am going out there. You can read all about it in my next blog.

The Zinger Man

2009-09-20T06:09:00.000-07:00

One of the pilgrimages I'd planned while in Ann Arbor was to Zingerman's Deli, a nationally – or perhaps universally – famous rival of Katz's in Greenwich Village (where Sally demonstrated to Harry how women fake it). When Diane was in town on Wednesday, we spent about a half-hour of her well mapped and directed efforts to get us to the location of this Rosh Hashanah Mecca (you should excuse the metaphor); but the diabolical gerrymandering of AA's "old town" area is such that we might have been the expedition searching for Dr. Livingstone in the jungle, with less satisfactory results. We gave up, that day.

However, I could not give up the odyssey, because Stu Chalin mentioned its worthiness; so on Friday – yes, Shabbat Eve, and this year the eve of Rosh HaShanah – I found my way there, with the help of careful MapQuesting and The Great Jehovah. (It also helped that I went at 3 PM – just about the only "off hours" time at Zing's.) I was even able to park right across the street! No lines out the door! But there was a line indoors, and I joined it gratefully.

A great burly Dionysian redheaded fellow in a Zingerman's tee-shirt sidled up to me and said (observing my confused glances) "First timer?" I agreed that I was that; and said I was here to find out if the tales are true that Zingerman's is as good as Katz's and/or Russ & Daughters, on Houston Street in Greenwich Village. He gave me a snarky look, raised one eyebrow and snarled, "As GOOD as?? Are you kiddin'? Let me tell you a little true story. A couple of years ago there was held a US competition across America to find the best corned beef from coast to coast. Who won? Do I have to tell ya? Of course Zingerman's corned beef. And here's another true tale: last year the Manhattan-only deli's held a city contest for the same crown; our beloved boss had a friend in the business in NYC and they smuggled in some of Zing's corned beef. Who won? Who else? We killed 'em all, again!"

I told him I would put them to the test this very day, but not with corned beef. "Do you serve your brisket undressed?" I asked. Absolutely of course, just ask for No Sauce.... then he pointed to the guy in line in front of me and said, "by the way, be nice to that guy, he's from Chicago." I said "I'm always nice to guys from Chicago; they're dangerous!" Dionysius clapped me on the back and said, "I like you; here's an employment application, fill it out!"

So I could be working in Ann Arbor, if I should choose; ain't life grand!

PS: I won't tell The Man, but no way does Zing's brisket come within a country mile of Katz's! It's good -- maybe only super, if you get it with their BBQ sauce, but that's not Manhattan, bud. I'm having my other half of the sandwich for dinner tonight, but only because it's there. (Sorry, Stu: I'll take you to Katz's if I am ever in Manhattan at the same time you are; we'll have a brisket on rye, but I don't give demonstrations.)

Diane & Fran's Excellent Reunion: Day 3

2009-09-17T15:56:00.000-07:00

This little entry answers the question: Can old high-school friends who have not seen each other in 55 years still have anything to say to one another?

As Diane's photo seems to reply: "Are you kidding?!"

The two friends spent a really glorious day together on Wednesday; Diane arrived at my "guesthouse" around 10 AM, and after hugs and exclamations, we had coffee and gabbed about everything that had occured in our lives in more recent times. When it was lunchtime, we set out on our Grand Tour, with me driving and D. navigating, which turned out to be the ideal arrangement; Diane beats me all to hell when it comes to reading maps and sensing which way is up. We toured the campus area, as the carillon bells were chiming merrily, and finding nary a parking spot to be had, we gave up on our dream to have lunch once again in the Michigan League as in days of yore; and we had the same luck (or lack thereof) finding parking anywhere downtown. So we drove out of town a short distance to a roadhouse and had a fine salad lunch and more chatter – followed by a tour of old neighborhoods we'd both known, and ending up at the beloved Washtenaw Dairy, where we had the ice cream of our ancient dreams – absolutely the best I've ever had in my life, to this very day.

We both needed to catch our breath, so we separated for an hour's nap in our respective hostels; and then we had the Yearbook Session, laughing at our pictures and those of remembered classmates and teachers, for a couple of hours. Then it was off again for more food: we had a super German supper at an old traditional Oktoberfest haunt, where a friendly waitress took photos of us together, on Diane's camera; when they arrive from her to me I'll share them.

After a good sleep overnight, we had breakfast together and a final summing up of where our hearts and minds are at the age of 73 years. We shared "best and worst moments," the most beautiful places we'd ever been, greatest joys and greatest regrets; both of us were ready with answers on the tip of our tongues. It was astounding that our many conversations occured as easily as if we'd just spent two hours gabbing on the phone last night (with our parents yelling, "hang it up and do your homework, NOW!") – and were just taking up where we'd left off, the next day. 55 years melted away from the moment she got out of her car on Wednesday morning and we ran into each other's arms.

That, my friends, is friendship. And for it, I thank God.

We both thought, gazing at the yearbook together, that we were geeky ugly ducklings back in the day; but in this day, my opinion of Diane is that she is truly beautiful; I am mature enough to see the brave, smart, loving woman she has become over the years; and I am in awe of her courage and strength in dealing with the adversities that life brings, and of her steady, calm and hopeful spirit.

Many things change and die, in life; but a great friendship is forever.

Wednesday Morning Meditation

2009-09-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

A little while before daybreak this morning I woke, thinking about Teri's question I'd read last evening: "Why did you (adamantly?) vow you would never return to Ann Arbor? Was it so bad? Or was there an event that triggered this dramatic sentiment?"

I'd said something in my blog about Leaving Ann Arbor FOREVER! and though to me at age 20 it seemed obvious, I realize it may not be so.... Answer: I rejoiced that I was not going to be buried alive in this hick town!

My kids, who if they had grown up in their Santa Barbara milieu for their first 20 years of life might understand what I meant, were instead joined to the IBM System ("I've Been Moved") that was so prevalent when John and I got married, and so they were cast out of the town of their birth, weeping and gnashing their teeth, and became citizens of The Real World.

Teri and the others may never fully comprehend how smothering and stultifying it felt for me to graduate from 18 years in one small-town cocoon – to find myself enclosed in a boring little prison, walled in forever: "My God, Montresor: have pity!"

Looking at my old hometown now, from the perspective of 50-plus years of world citizenship, I can't help but wonder if today's Ann Arbor High School graduates could understand my ancient angst. Due to the great communications revolution that is still expanding into the 21st century, I have to wonder if these future citizens can posssibly feel that walled-in.

Yet, if given my birth family's Zeitgeist ("Money is tight, the future uncertain; you ain't goin' nowhere" was my graduation anthem) a lower middle class scholar of 2009 might still feel glued to this plot of ground in Michigan.

Luckily for me, the gates opened wide in 1955, when my father was forced by his several physical problems to retire permanently from his dead-end job here – and my parents, fueled by their old itchy-foot syndrome, began to feel their California mojo working again. As so many years earlier, when I was just a baby, Dad's poor health issues sent them westward to California in a fruitless search for the pot of gold, they were ready at last to fare forth to Lotusland; and I and my two siblings escaped with them into the wide world.

I remember walking often to the old bridge that spans the New York Central rail tracks by the Ann Arbor depot yet today, gazing down at the trains as they pulled out and whispering a line from one of my mother's favorite poems: "There isn't a train I wouldn't take, no matter where it's going!" That's what I felt then; anywhere would be better than here.

I still believe that may be true; but I've come to think that those old prison walls were in my own head, and that eventually I would have left Ann Arbor – if only in my dreams.

GF's Excellent Adventure: Day 2

2009-09-15T16:44:00.000-07:00

Behold: the entranceway to my home away from home, "Claire's Guesthouse," just outside the actual U of M campus environs (and it appears, close enough that I may hear the marching band practicing for Saturday's big first home game of the season).

After a very sketchy sleep at the Marriott last night (not the hotel's fault – it was so nice that I reserved a room there for the night before my very early morning departure for home). I think my problem was that I was too excited about today's adventures.

I got up early, therefore, grabbed a quick cuppa, and was off in the shuttle to catch an Enterprise bus to the car rental office. Those E-People are the way to rent wheels, friends; they were super-helpful and friendly, gave me a choice of three different autos (in Detroit loyalty mode, I chose a Chrysler Sebring, nice and solid, as I'm going to be doing a lot of auto-exploring, even unto darkest Canada perhaps). The drive over to Ann Arbor was quick and easy (dear brother Frank, I found Michigan driving just as simple as in California).

Negotiating the mean streets of my old hometown, however, is a different matter. First of all, how this little hick town has grown! Secondly, road construction seems to be a way of life here, far worse than anything I can remember in CA (Land of CalTrans); and finally, if my husband thinks he's seen "one-way-street madness" in Santa Cruz, he would be driven insane by the New Ann Arbor. What streets there may be that are not ringing with nine-pound hammers, have been turned into arbitrary one-way lanes. And no, this is not Italy: I'm afraid to try to claim, "But officer, I AM only going one way at the moment."

However, after a Starbuck's pick-me-up refueling, I was able to find my way to my first destination on this journey: St. Thomas the Apostle Church and School, where my earliest formative years were spent in study and prayer.

It was quite wonderful to be able to park the car in front of the school entrance that was exactly where I remembered it to be (though the building has been enlarged beyond any memory). As I walked back toward the church on the corner, I was retracing steps I'd followed for too many years to recall; in May Processions, going to practice playing the organ in the choirloft, or to choir practice with Professor Rochon (whose darling son Paul was the dream-fantasy of every girl in my grade-school class)..... I went in the same side door I'd always entered from the school property; and spent almost an hour there, gazing at the white marble altar and remembering the towering figure of our pastor, Monsignor Peek, as he thundered from the big pulpit about the abject failure of his congregants to donate enough in the collection plate. The Monsignor and the big pulpit are gone now, as are the two white marble archangels who guarded the Epistle and Gospel sides of the altar. But the statue of dear Saint Joseph, at whose altar I knelt so often to say my "Act of Contrition," after childish confessions, still smiles down on little congregants; I lit a candle there and prayed my thanks that God must have forgiven all my nasty little faults, since I've been allowed to come back and see Joseph's smiling face once more. (I added prayers for my own son Joseph and his family -- a group I could not possibly have imagined in my wildest dreams back in the day.)

I finally found public parking down near Liberty Street and Fifth, near where my Dad's office used to be located; and I had a quick lunch on a corner where it may well be that I'd imbibed so many chocolate-peppermint ice cream sodas at a fountain in the drugstore across from his place of labor (now a cafe called "Afternoon Delights.") They don't know from afternoon delights there, though, as they have never had a chocolate peppermint ice cream soda for 50 cents on a hot after-school afternoon.

By that time, my get up and go had got up and left; so I found my way to Claire's Guesthouse out here in the New Suburbia south of campus; and as crickets call in the garden outside my window, I am off to sleep-land. Another big day cometh tomorrow: high-school best buddy Diane arrives from Kalamazoo (Kazoo to us Michiganders) at 10 AM, and I want to be ready to recreate those memories with her for a day and an evening.

GF's Excellent Adventure: Day 1

2009-09-15T16:19:00.000-07:00

It is after midnight in Dee-troit, The Big City of childhood memory.

My first ever First Class plane trip was a success; at least it was a giant step for womankind beyond Cattle Class – I guess I'll call it Happy Cow Class. With more comfortable seats, no passenger elbows to poke you awake, and unlimited free food and drink (golly, even hot towels before the meals), it made my two-step trip from San Jose to the Texas hub to the Detroit terminal very bearable.

Granted, this 21st century mode of flitting about is not "fun," in the way that I recall from my early days of flying. (That was well after Amelia Earhardt disappeared into the clouds, I'll have you know.) Those were the days when we dressed up in chic two-piece suits and silk blouses and heels and pearl necklaces; when soft music was playing as you boarded, and beautiful young stewardii greeted you at the door with exuberant smiles rather than tired sighs. (I heard a couple of those travel-gals talking on the shuttle bus; they are assigned 12-hour days, with one day off/one day on. If the pilots are on the same sort of schedule, Lord help us.) In those bad old days or yore, drinks were served a-plenty, as soon as a safe altitude was reached, with a choice of munchy snacks and a printed menu distributed to you, so you could decide on your hot three-course lunch or dinner choice. (Good cognac was offered after dessert, too, if you wished.)

But back to reality: I am safely ensconced in a nice Marriott airport hotel; took a wonderful, needle-spray shower when I got here tired and sweaty, and am ready for a good night's sleep. I did some thinking during the flight about what I hope to learn about myself during this adventure. More on that tomorrow, after I get my wheels in the morning and drive to Ann Arbor to look at the old home town.

Test For Ann Arbor Journal

2009-09-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

Who: Frances Anne Colborn Soule; that's me! What: This is a test page for my "Madeleines" journey to visit my youth.
Why? Remembrance of Things Past
Where: Ann Arbor, MI, the little, tree-shaded college town where I grew up.
When: Departing San Jose, CA on Monday, September 14th; returning on Thursday, September 24th.

I plan to include photos in this daily journal, and travelogue descriptions as well as ruminations on this (for me) fascinating experiment in recapturing memory and getting acquainted with the girl who became the woman I am today. My guess is that I will know her better now than she knew herself in those formative years. I intend to take copious notes and write brief essays in my private notebooks; my goal is to build up a record and a much better understanding of the influences and guidance that formed me there, from the age of seven years to the day of my departure ("Forever!!") when I was 19. Forever is a very long time; it's been 54 years since I uttered that oath, but I am very ready to take it back now. I am in the process of writing my first memoir of that time when I was being launched upon the great sea of life. My promise to myself is that I will be as fully truthful in accessing my memories and in my assessments of them, as I have heretofore found myself incapable of being: because the only memoir worth my writing would be one that is clear-eyed and honest to the woman I have become at the age of 73. However, dear readers, you will not be subjected to the brunt of my unbridled honesty in this blog! This is for your enjoyment (if you should enjoy the tale), and as a souvenir of a journey that has been waiting for me for over 50 years. My first actual travelogue entry will be posted next Monday, if all goes well – labeled with some cutesy title that will indicate its content, I'm sure. Wish me "Bon voyage," my dears.

A DO-NOTHING LABOR DAY

2009-09-06T12:17:00.000-07:00

There is a lovely quote from Scripture that I always think about on this annual holiday weekend: one hears it occasionally in a funeral liturgy. "Yes, says the Spirit, let them rest from their labors, for their works follow them."

So I hope you have all worked hard enough over the past year that you feel you can rest – just "be" – for a couple of days. That's what I'm doing, folks.

A new blog is coming, covering my sentimental journey home to Ann Arbor, MI. I'm going there in the hope of meeting again (for the first time) the little girl growing to a young lady there – who has turned out to be me.

I'm seeking a name for that blog. If any of my readers have a suggestion, I'm listening. I will incorporate on-the-spot photos in it, as I can, and some of my daily journal notes exploring what I find in my past as I contemplate the setting in my present. I've been doing some good mental exercises over the summer, using Natalie Goldberg's fine course on writing memoir, "Old Friend From Far Away." Even viewed from across the miles, a lot of scenes from my Michigan upbringing have come up to me, with Natalie's prodding; I plan to incorporate some or most of that writing into the final draft of my own meditations on the first years of my life.

I'll send the blog access connection to the people I think might be interested in accompanying me on this spiritual journey. If you have any suggestions about who should be on that list, let me know about that too.

I leave for Ann Arbor, and begin my journal, on Monday, September 14th – about a week from today.

Summer's End

2009-08-25T11:48:00.000-07:00

To be honest, our "staycation" has turned out to be more "stay" and less "cation" – when you try to vacation at home, the little chores just leap out at you. We knew we'd have to do the garden upkeep and laundry and dishes, stuff like that; but new things have kept coming up, like the yellowjacket infestation; the tree removal; and a small host of other etc.'s. On the plus side, though, we have had magnificent summer weather up here (barring a few days of drifting smoke as the firefighters quenched the "Lockheed" fire over near Bonny Doon). It's been much cooler than last summer's scorcher August, when we were madly unpacking and getting settled – but clear and sunny, and warm enough to sit on the deck most afternoons. We've done a lot of reading, some pleasant flower-potting, a little piano study, and lots of writing exercises. But, lovely as the location and the weather are up here, and much as we adore our house and surrounding grounds – we're really thinking of doing some sort of house exchange with someone next August, after the big Family Reunion in July is over. The problem for us is that we can't think of anywhere we'd really like to be during the month of August (except here!) However, if anyone has a suggestion, we'd be happy to hear about it.....

WHAT'S THE BUZZ?

2009-08-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

Answer: "Yellowjackets!" A whole nest of them, right under the open stairsteps going down from our guest bathroom to John's studio house. For a while, we'd seen a few of them floating around occasionally, but their larvae hatched recently, and suddenly there were too many of the little buzzers flitting about.

We called in the Marines, i.e. Mark The Exterminator; he came out this week with his deadly equipment, and terminated them (or so we hope). We haven't seen any since; but his ominous parting words have left us in doubt: "You should be OK now, unless they were camping in an old gopher tunnel or something similar, going back many feet; there could still be a lot more larvae in there waiting to hatch...."

"... or so you hope, General Zapperwhapper," I thought; at $150 a pop, he would be willing to wreak more devastation on their armies, I'm sure.

In other current news, the fire that started late this past week over in the next valley is still greying our afternoon skies with smoke residue here today; we're in no danger from flames, but smoky air is a real detriment to my lungs. So we're staying inside in the latter half of the day, keeping windows closed and ceiling fans whirling. This morning was clear and lovely, before the winds shifted this way, so we sat out on the deck after breakfast and basked in shaded sunlight, sipping tea and talking about last evening.

Our Crazy Peter had to leave today for another trip across The Pond, so we had him and TNT (aka Ted n' Teresa) over for a neighborly pasta feed. TNT brought two gorgeous salads of tomatoes from their garden: a melange of chopped multi-colored cherry tomatoes and cucumber, and a truly artful Isalata Caprese. I made a superb Spaghetti alla Carbonara, and we sipped wine and laughed and talked the evening away. New York Cheesecake with strawberry sauce ended the festivities early; and we bade farewell to the wayfarer.

Now we are resting and recovering, and spending a very quiet and peaceful Sunday – as I hope are all of you busy little bees.

Poop

2009-08-08T06:53:00.000-07:00

.... Well, fertilizer, at least. Thanks to youse who expressed sympathy in our loss of four trees this week; and here are some more tidbits about the results: We bought some nitrogen-injected fertilizer yesterday and will mix it in this morning; our local landscaper gal thinks that's the thing. I'd already just planted some sweet little shade-loving annuals under those oaks, and I have to say the Men In Trees were wonderful about avoiding tromping on my blooms when they took down the monsters.

There have been some interesting results of the removal: Now the shade-lovers have lost their shade, to some extent, but there is enough more old-growth in this forest to make the transition less drastic than we expected. And indeed, now that those trees are gone, we have much more light coming into the parlor from the window above the stereo cabinet! The less-wonderful change is that we now have a direct view of Crazy Peter's comings and goings across the street (and he of ours, of course) – so we're seeking prudent counsel on what quick-fix planting we might put at the edge of our driveway, between it and the stand-alone wooden gate on the front patio. We could add a very tall fence addition there, I suppose, but that is expensive. It is a plus that Peter has built a beautiful redwood fence around his newly refurbished deck and festooned it with hanging baskets of colorful flowers, so the view is not exactly ugly. But we would like a little more privacy. Any suggestions?

It's Comin' On August / They're Cuttin' Down Trees

2009-08-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

This is a kinda sad morning: We have Men In Trees, in our very own garden. Sigh. I hate to see a tree come down, anywhere, any time; but we've been warned several times by those who know (not the guys who'll get paid for their work this noon) that these tan oaks are putting us in grave peril in the next windstorm of winter. As much as I am a "Save The Trees" gal, I am not sanguine with the idea of our cottage being split in two before Christmas! So we cut a deal with Crazy Peter next door; he had a tree in need of cutting, so he negotiated with his arborist. For a good group price, the boys are up there lopping off big limbs (not their own, the tree limbs) in preparation for the "TIMBBERR" moment soon to come.

The buzzin' of the saw is gettin' me down / Think I'm-a gonna trip down into the town / Get me a cuppa at the Rainbow's End / Try to get my broken ol' heart to mend.

(The Treehugger's Blues)

Sunday In The Park: Part 2

2009-08-03T08:46:00.000-07:00

(NOTE: Read "Part 1" below, first!)

Sundays usually bring us four hours or so away from the cottage. With an hour's round trip to church at 10 am, we try to incorporate other stops over in Scotts Valley on our way to or from Mass. (The Episcopal sermons are a good bit lengthier than the usual Roman Catholic, so services are usually an hour and a half, or so. We don't mind, as our Pastor Mary Blessing is a really fine preacher, especially when she does a children's homily once a month, as on August 2nd). Today as we were leaving, we picked up a loaf of outrageously good Arcangeli Ciabatta bread - famous in this part of California, baked daily in a little fishing town up the coast – from the greengrocer's stand next to the church; and we stopped off for lunch at a Cambodian fast-food cafe nearby (chicken lemongrass soup with Kaffir lime leaves; spicy minced meat/cabbage-leaf wraps – on their shady, quiet patio).

We spent most of the afternoon on our back deck; John made lists (I can't stop him!) and I did a manicure and some light reading – and watched the little flowers I'd just set out on the baker's rack, as they danced in the summer breeze. And I thanked God for all the beauty that surrounds us here.

After listening to a Garrison Keillor program on Lake Wobegon Lutherans – lots of lovely hymns! – we ate a light supper (Insalata Caprese and a bit of that good loaf we'd bought earlier) and were off to read and to sleep, perchance to dream.

Sunday In The Park: Part I

2009-08-03T07:50:00.000-07:00

A foggy mountain Sunday morning; the ocean breezes that keep us cool during hot August sunshine (as they did yesterday) sometimes bring these wisps of grey mist up over our treetops as day breaks. Once the sun is up, the fog scurries right back down to the seacoast.

Last evening we and our immediate neighbors had a BBQ on Peter's deck; we, Ted and Teresa, and two of Peter's grown kids (and their SOs) gathered at 5 o'clock for wine (provided by us) and hors d'oeuvres (steamed artichokes and dip, shrimp cocktail platters). It was a jolly little party; and the T-Bone steaks (Peter's standard menu-du-jour) were humungous. After the cheesecake and fresh strawberries were consumed – yes, that too! – the young folks went off to some lowdown stompin' bar, and we elders sat by the fire and talked. It was a piggy but delightful way to begin our month of holiday.

Ted and Teresa are off for their vacation in Ontario and then to Vancouver, later this month; and Peter is going back to Europe soon (he and his daughter, The Lovely Ashley as we call her, just got back from two weeks in England at the end of July) ..... I don't get why people want to go away from this wonderful forest; we're so happy just being here on our Staycation.

AUGUST PASTORALE #1

2009-08-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

Saturday, August 1:

Bright sunlight illumined the treetops beyond our window wall and woke us to the first day of our StayCation. Ye gods! – it was 8:30am! Did we realize how late we were?? Then it dawned on us just like the day – we were supposed to sleep in; how can you be late for a holiday?

Fortified with a hot cuppa, provided by husband, I sat in my rocking chair in my little corner of the bedroom for a few wake-up minutes and gazed at the wooded hills across Boulder Creek from our cottage, and meditated. "Wow," my monkey mind chattered, "you don't have to do anything today, you know that?" I retorted, "Oh, there must be lots of things I have to get done, just give me a minute."

Half an hour later, I was still sitting there, talking to my simian consciousness. "Well, I have to water my new flowering annual pots on the baker's rack out on the deck; I have to pick some flowers from the rose garden and the Bouquet Planter, how about that?"

"Hah," the monkey retorted, "you call that work?"

"No, I do not call it work; I call it FUN! That means I can do it, then," I thought; and I picked up my rose-clippers and went out into the morning light to create a bouquet for our breakfast table.

My man and I had a freshly laid organic egg, with toast and orange juice, and went our separate ways for the rest of the morning; we ended up puttering around the house and garden, doing a bit of this and that, for most of the day.

At 5 PM we strolled across the way to Crazy Peter's new outdoor deck, where he'd invited us and our other close neighbors Ted and Teresa, for an evening barbecue feast. Peter is a huge Frank Sinatra fan, so "Fly Me To The Moon" was blasting on his stereo; a whole new set of cushiony patio furniture welcomed us as we gathered around the coffee table for shrimp cocktails, steamed artichokes, and an assortment of wines provided by us. Peter's two local kids came in with their respective S.O.'s – and we all munched and sipped and chatted while the prime T-Bones roasted on the grill. Peter and his daughter had been to England and Switzerland last month, and we looked at some on-line photos via a laptop. As the day faded, we all grabbed large plates and filled them with too much food, poured another glass of wine around the group, and ate ourselves into a stupor. Then Peter brought out the cheesecake with fresh strawberries; we groaned, but we ate that too!

After the younger generation departed for some lowdown stompin' bar, we five old fogies sat around with candlelight and coffee, and talked about our plans for the month of August. Peter is going back to Europe for a few days; Ted and Teresa are off at mid-month for a family wedding in Ontario and then a trip across Canada to stay for a few days in Vancouver – where they plan to retire in 10 years or so.

I just can't understand why anyone would want to vacation anywhere else, much less retire to any place that is not right here, in the Paradise we have found.

A Week In The South

2009-07-23T13:07:00.000-07:00

Last week we were in Santa Barbara, having a good visit with my siblings and getting some things taken care of that were necessary. I had my yearly physical and mammogram and passed both with flying colors – my doctor practically threw me out of the office, I'm so disgustingly healthy.

We had a couple of good visits with friends; took my brother out for a belated birthday dinner at the funky cook-your-own-steak restaurant in Carpinteria (The Palms); and saw the "Harry Potter VI" film at the beautiful Arlington Theatre. We got to Mass at Trinity, our dear old parish.

On the way down, we stopped overnight in Carmel Valley, and did some research on venues for the 2010 family reunion (the RU-10 Blog is almost up and ready, and everyone will be alerted when it is published).

Now we're happily back home in our dear cottage; and we are trying to finish up all the little odds and ends of chores that need to be done for this season – so that we can take the entire month of August "off" and just enjoy the beautiful summer weather on our deck overlooking the forest.

I have lots of good reading saved up for that time, including an anthology of James Baldwin's nonfiction and the newest McCall-Smith novel about Botswana's "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency." We will do some local excursions to places we haven't checked out yet, and begin a regime of daily morning walks. I plan to get back to regular daily piano sessions – and writing exercises to prepare for the first book of my memoirs (which will grow, I hope, out of my September visit to my childhood's home in Ann Arbor).

As part of my writing work, I will try to keep this blog going with a sort of Summertime Pastorale, to record what we hope will be a much more peaceful August than our last year's moving-in process could allow. (If I get too flowery or effusive, please send me a nasty comment-note and I'll tone it down!)

Summertime, No Blues

2009-07-09T10:40:00.000-07:00

We love summer in the mountains: clear blue skies, temperatures around 75 F. with light breeze – and very warm in the midday hours on our back deck. The Glorious Fourth passed almost unnoticed up here (by us, at least). There was a kids' parade on Route 9 last Saturday, but we abstained; stayed home and had a very restful day. On Sunday, Joe and family came up for an all-American Barbecue (hot dogs, cornbread and beans, salad stuff and watermelon); otherwise we did little celebrating on the outside. In our hearts, of course, we were quietly celebrating a great Democratic president and the newly seated senator from Minnesota!

We are getting ready for an excursion down to Santa Barbara next week; I have my annual physical checkup scheduled there, and it will be a chance to visit with siblings and friends. So even though we don't like to be away from our mountain greenery, we will enjoy a little Southern (CA) hospitality, I'm sure. We plan to stop overnight on the way, in Carmel Valley, and will research the venues available there for next July's family monster rally.

John still has too many chores on his List, so I've declared a Month Of Jubilee, for August. We have promised ourselves that during that time, we will do no chores beyond the absolute daily necessities; make no lists; tote no barges, lift no bales. We need to practice the ancient and honored art of Doing Nothing (Guilt-Free). I'll let you know how that goes! But if we can't make ourselves take a real "Stay-cation" this year, it's my opinion that we just need to get away, next summer, for a month. To this end, I'm wondering if anybody would like to trade homes with us for next August? As long as this trade was fairly equal (i.e., the trader lives in a nice place, is reasonably neat and fair with our property, and trusts us with theirs) I think it might be a great idea for all concerned.

Any interest? send me an email, or leave a comment below!

One Year Anniversary

2009-07-01T16:49:00.000-07:00

We are celebrating! We felt that our first wonderful year in Boulder Creek deserved a special observation, so we have given ourselves a holiday – no work, no list-making, no administration; just fun.

We began with a little breakfast of fresh OJ and a short-stack of fine pancakes with warm fresh raspberry sauce. This repast was followed by the unexpected arrival of some big trucks with tree-men, and we watched them take down a couple of dead oaks in the neighbors' yard. As the noise became rather obnoxious, however, we decided to drive down to Santa Cruz and have a fancy lunch at an excellent Italian cafe in the center of town: we had a wild arugula and prosciutto salad, shared a small appetizer bowl of fresh clams in a wine/butter broth; and I had a half-order of cannelloni with a glass of Veneto pinot grigio (John had a mixed-seafood pasta). When we got home, neighbors came by with a dozen fresh eggs laid by their hens this morning -- another benefit of living in the country! Tonight we'll have a bit of bread and cheese and share a bottle of champagne, and we'll be off to sleep in the beautiful, cool evening that follows a delightfully sunny and mild day.

For all of you who have shepherded us to this peaceful valley, and for the Good Shepherd who watches over us all, we are eternally grateful, today and forever.

The Miceman Cometh

2009-06-25T13:35:00.001-07:00

Some of my dear readers may be wondering: "Whatever happened about the Mysterious Mouse Infestation of the past winter?"

Yes, it was mice, not rats – for which we are devoutly grateful – that were sneaking around, gobbling up or distributing chocolate peanuts, at Christmastime. Our "ratzinger" gizmo trapped a few of the critters, in the space of a couple of months, and there has been no sign of any activity since. But today we had a professional exterminator come out to have a good look around and make recommendations for critter-proofing the house and grounds.

The good man did give us some free advice, and allowed as how this is Their Territory, and we must learn to co-exist with the forest denizens. However, he did not suggest that we offer them food and shelter; he showed us where and how to beef up our house-armor (inserting clumps of steel-wool where needed, clearing a couple of outside areas that a mouse might interpret as a sort of welcome mat, etc.) He gave us a list of foodstuffs that must not be left out uncovered. He inspected some suspicious little dust piles along the ledge of our bedroom "barn wall" and assured us that it was not termite issue -- it might be carpenter ants, but it might also be very old stuff that just shakes out of the tongue-and-groove construction of the wall with our occasional little temblors up here.

All this service (he was here for a half-hour) and advice, and he does not charge a cent; he said he likes to be helpful and also knows it's good will: when we do actually need him to do something we'll be inclined to call him, and then he will charge for work done. I like this policy!

Actually we have had little to no observation of "outside pets" coming inside; it's summer, and they are enjoying all the fresh air and free woodland foods. If we get some uninvited guests when the weather turns cold, later in the year, we can call our friendly service, and he pledges to be out here within less than 24 hours to help us.

I can say philosophically that I am at peace with the understanding that we have moved into "their" forest, and that one of the exigencies of living in such beauty is that we are sharing the space with the natives. But they didn't pay for the cottage: and I know Leenie and Greg would certainly not want us to lower the drawbridge for anything with four legs (or 100, in the case of a centipede) – they might even have some two-legged potential objections too! So behave yourselves, friends, when you come to visit!

The Sweat-Equity Pit

2009-06-18T06:48:00.000-07:00

Quite a few years ago there was an amusing/horrifying Tom Hanks film called "The Money Pit" – about renovating an old house. Since that's what we've been doing for the past two months of springtime, I can relate. Although we haven't spent scads of money on this project to which we set ourselves, we have worked hard and put in a lot of time; but we are almost done with The List.

The two major projects were redoing the awful floors in the parlor and guest room – and reconfiguring and creating space-saving built-ins out in John's little studio (The Doghouse).

To get the floors done, we had to move everything out of the two rooms, including all the books and the bookcases, all the "tchotchkes" in the curio cabinet and the cabinet itself, etc., etc. The cottage has looked like Moving Day for a few weeks, with boxes of books and decor stuffed into various corners of the place and furniture piled into other rooms. We were "floored" at first by the task of choosing the right shade of green for the floors, to blend with other walls – and still another tint for the parlor alcove. But we triumphed, I think: we are very happy with the final results. The actual work was done by a local professional painter, thank God – and we had a couple of days of rest at our beloved Merrybrook cabin while that was going on.

John decided to save a lot of money by renovating his studio himself; and he really worked! But that too is almost ready for prime time; and I'll take photos this weekend of that space and the changes in the cottage, for an album to send to all who might be interested.

We've also had to break down and buy a few furnishings for the newly spiffy interior. The former parlor chairs (which Leenie scornfully calls patio furniture and Souffle more kindly dubbed "engineering style") are out, and two lovely Queen Anne style recliners are in. A great secretary desk graces the entry foyer, and John uses it for household work-space; I use it for storage of linens and such in lower drawers, and our collection of steins and cups from our days in Germany in the upper, glassed-in shelves. I also found a nice little oak dinette table and chairs, for the parlor alcove..... The old and infamous leather sofa that lived temporarily as a guest-room bed has been given away to a single mom who desperately needed furnishings; and in our now much less cluttered little Sanctuary Room, we have our bookshelves installed against one long wall. We bought a very clever ottoman that takes up almost no room but expands into a single bed – for the use of any pilgrim in need of a quiet, peaceful retreat. I still have my writing area here at the lighter end of the room by the window; and I'm looking for a comfortable chair to go with the ottoman, for a reading corner by the library shelves.

Well, you may see the photos soon; and as we work to finish everything up by the one-year anniversary of our moving-in, on July 1st, we are looking forward to a lazy, quiet two months of summer ahead. It's been quite cool up here during these past months, for which we are extremely grateful; but as the warmer days are coming, we hope to be relaxing on the back deck in days to come!

Go Slugs, Go!

2009-06-05T11:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a Zoological Morning in our little woodland home. John found his first Banana Slug (proud mascot of UC Santa Cruz) on our property; and a confused bird flew into his Studio as he was working with the door open. The slug moved on (slowly) but John says it really looked like a wiggly banana, very bright and shiny yellow (eewwwhh). The bird was stunned (but not nailed to a perch) and then it shook its little feathers and flew back out again. I only thank God it wasn't me in that Studio!

In other news, I will also go (faster than the slug) – to Ann Arbor, home town of Fran and the University of Michigan – in mid-September! I reserved my ticket this week, and am getting very excited about Recherchezing Les Temps Perdus in preparation for writing my memoirs. My high-school buddy, Diane, still lives in Michigan and will come over to spend a day with me while I am there – it will be a great help to have two minds digging into our respective memory banks for juicy stories, and it will be a lot of fun to get together again with her after all these years.

In preparation for the trip and the writing task, I am working on a couple of teaching tools for writers of autobiography: Natalie Goldberg's "Old Friend From Far Away," and "Courage and Craft" by Barbara Abercrombie. Both full of excellent exercises for waking up memories and learning to write them down.

As soon as we're really done with our Spring Turnout of this house (by the end of June, we hope) I will buckle down again to daily writing and discipline. Meanwhile, the house is still in a bit of an uproar, but we're working on it every day and ought to have it ready for a "before an after" photo album soon!

Babysitter Story, Chapter 2

2009-05-31T12:10:00.000-07:00

No doubt it's really silly to refer to this weekend with Josh as "babysitting." He is not a baby, and doesn't require much "sitting." I fix meals for him, and keep him company (and make sure he gets to bed finally, after the lengthiest getting-ready process I've ever seen in my life).

Friday evening after he and I had an early dinner, I bargained with him: "If you get all ready for bed now, we can watch a movie together before you go to sleep." He was pretty fast with the process, based on that deal. The great film biography of Johnny Cash, "Walk The Line," was on CBS, and we watched it together. Josh asked very well thought out questions as we watched: "Exactly when did all this happen?" was one of my favorites -- the 60s costumes probably made the timeframe look like a long-bygone era to the lad! He asked about the problems and pain that ensue with drug abuse, and was interested in how June Carter's care for and love for Johnny made a good man out of him eventually.

On Saturday morning, Josh came downstairs and asked, "May I watch some TV while you fix breakfast?" I said, "Sure, it's Saturday, want to watch cartoons?" He replied, "No, I like the Discovery Channel." He watched a program on wildlife during Arctic summer, and we discussed it as I fixed a pretty good pancake brunch with fresh fruit and yogurt.

In the afternoon, Aunt Julie drove down from Seascape and went with us to Monterey to see the brand-new (and wonderful!) Pixar film, "Up." It will be much loved by all ages of kids and adults, I predict. We did a little shopping afterward, and I took us to dinner at P. F. Chang's (Josh ate a huge plateful of Shrimp in Lobster Sauce over rice -- after some hearty appetizers, of course.)

I think that at least I've partially redeemed myself after the rocky start to this grandma weekend!

Babysitter Blues

2009-05-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

"Here's the story / of an old grandmother / who had brought up her six kiddies, plus two more / and it's the story / of how old grandmother / was out shopping when her grandson needed her"

I contracted to stay with Josh in his home in Marina for three days, while Joe and Kathie flew back to Chicago for a nephew's wedding this weekend. Here's the first installment in the story.

John drove me down to Marina on Friday mid-AM; Kathie and Joe had already left for the San Jose airport, but I had a house key. Josh was at school (presumably until 4:30 PM when the bus would bring him home).... John then went on down south to have a weekend with sibs, Marie and Robert – and to see their new shared rental house in Altadena.

So I took the small car left here for my use, and drove down to the big shopping center in Monterey, to look at the two recliner chairs in situ that I have on order at Macy's. (I sat in the floor model, inspected it, and declared it "just right.") I did a bit of other looky-loo shopping and had lunch at Whole Foods (the free samples did it for me) -- and got back to Marina at 2 PM -- and there was a car parked in the driveway.... Scary.

Turns out that shortly after I'd locked up and left this house, Josh's school had called because Josh had a tummyache and wanted to come home. Not finding anyone home, they called Kathie's cell, as she waited at the San Jose airport to board for Chicago. She couldn't reach me, since John had taken our one cellphone with him.....

Luckily, Kathie got hold of her former teaching partner Linda, who lives around the corner from her and is retired and was at home -- so Linda picked Josh up at school, brought him back here and waited for my return.

I felt like I'd failed my first babysitting test. But how could I have known? And Josh was not sick; he was a little constipated and won't use the school bathrooms -- the problem was taken care of as soon as he got back home, according to Linda, and he was fine when I got here. (Linda and I conjectured that he might have thought the complaint would give him more time with Granny Franny -- but that didn't quite work out!)

Joe and KB called as soon as they landed in Chi, and were very understanding, but I apologized profusely.

Anyway, grandson and second-rate grandma had a nice afternoon and evening together, and all's well.

Balloon Story

2009-05-22T17:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes grace does drift down from the heavens: here's how it happened in my forest-garden today.

I was sitting in the back room in late morning, doing a little IM and e-mailing, and looked up to gaze at the greenery beyond the big windows. Goodness! Suddenly there was a lovely bouquet of blue, white and silver balloons, tied with ribbon, floating across near the tops of the trees! As I watched, they drifted slowly down and alit on the back deck, under the umbrella on the glass patio table.

I couldn't believe my eyes; but I ran out, gathered the gift, and tethered the bouquet to the railing of the porch fence – where it floats and waves gaily, even now.

I asked my friend Sarah, who was on the chat line with me at the time, if this meant that it was my turn to give a party (since these balloon clusters are often tied to the gate of a party-house); she made a lovely reply: "Maybe the party is just for you."

Every day is a sort of party at this cottage; but today was made very special by that gift from above!

Workin' On A Dream: Part 2

2009-05-15T15:55:00.000-07:00

It's Friday: TGIF. And we are back in our own little cottage again.

Yesterday we spent the morning running back and forth between Merrybrook and our house; power failure afflicted both locations, as it did on Wednesday also. We passed some time watching the paint dry; listening to Peter's generator powering the saws for a tree service trim job next door; and getting errands done in the village. By lunch time we were ready for a break, so we made sandwiches and sat on the little deck over the creek at our lodge. The deck on the cabin next door (Number 4) was being rebuilt, but the noise of the workmen was not as bad as that at home, and the Mexican radio station was playing some easy-listening dance music; we sat on that deck for a couple of peaceful hours, as a breeze wafted past and the stream gurgled below. Two beautiful mallard ducks were fishing for lunch below the deck; birds were singing. I love that lodge.

We met the painter late in the afternoon at our cottage, and we all pronounced it Very Good. I headed to the back room to write a check for him and as I went on-line first, to see how our bank balance was faring, I discovered that someone had paid for the paint contractor's work: President Obama! There was an automatic deposit to the account for our Stimulus Package lagniappe. I wrote the check and handed it to Mr. Painter, saying: "It's from the government, they are here to help us!" He opined that we were being very good citizens, as we were spending the money immediately, in a local business (he lives on Bear Creek Road) on home improvement. You can't get more patriotic than that, folks! Thanks, Barack!

To celebrate yet another great bit of good luck, we took ourselves down the road to dinner at Scopazzi's, and lifted a glass of local red to the new administration as we celebrated the successful completion of Stage One of our renovation.

Yes, the before/after photos are coming soon, via Kodak Gallery: watch your incoming mail.

Mr. Soule Renovates His Dream House, Part 1

2009-05-13T15:52:00.001-07:00

If you ever read the book or saw the movie, "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House," you'll have had a preview of our time of fun and games this season. We have long planned to do something about the parlor/library and the guest quarters in this cottage, but we are glad we waited (judiciously) for Leenie and Greg's visit and sage advice – no pun intended. Leenie recommended going with Sage Green for the repainting of the floor, and we are indebted to her for a wonderful bit of good decorating advice.

The burden of choosing the right depth and tint of the paint was worse than we'd guessed, however; you have NO idea how many shades of green exist in this world of ours. I should have guessed, looking out every morning at all the varied greens in our garden and forest; but I really thought that if I said "sage green" everyone would know exactly what I was talkin' about. Nope.

"Well, let's just look at these color samples," piped the cheery woman at the paint store – and she spread out before us on her counter a veritable Garden of Eden selection. "Do you want a slightly blue cast, or a bit of yellow perhaps? How about a soupcon of grey, or brown, to add calming notes?"

I needed a calming drink, at that point. The light from the store windows and the overhead fluorescence in no way resembles the filtered forest-y light that slants into our parlor. We searched our tired memories – did the color on the green walls of the parlor hold a hint of blue? or yellow? brown? grey? Who knew?

We randomly chose a couple of shades we thought might work, and while she mixed those up in quarts and shook the hell out of them on the power mixer, we tried to choose yet another shade of the ubiquitous Green to cover the Knossos Palace Red that disgraced the walls of the alcove in the corner of the parlor. After our exhaustive search we just pointed at a couple of Forest Green tints and said: "We'll try those."

Home to our mountains, we went; and daubed the edges of the floor and red walls with the choices. Alas: none of the four paints was worth a damn, seen in situ. The two choices for the floor were a pale pastel, suitable for a little girl's bedroom wall perhaps, but silly on a floor. The one shade I sort of liked for the walls reminded John of his duties repainting Army trucks, back in the day – a poor choice indeed.

Finally we got the inspiration, belatedly, to run around the cottage and pick up other green things we had that we liked. We held them up against the present green walls and found a pillowcase and a ribbon that seemed to convey the right shades. Then, after more debate, we realized that we were up against an insurmountable problem: too many shades of green were going to make our parlor look like a damp and mossy cave.

New plan: how about a light golden tint for the Knossos Korner? Eureka! We shuffled through all the little paint chips we'd brought home, and found the one we liked: but it was dubbed something like "Terrace Maple."

"Aahh, what's in a name?" I screeched, in a horrible parody of Juliet's dissembling argument. "It looks good to me, we're going with it."

Unlike Juliet, however (who discovered there's a whole world of trouble in having the wrong surname), I was right. The first coat of both paints has proved that the second try was a big success.

We went back down to the paint store in Santa Cruz, picked out the right tints on that journey, and the painters arrived this morning. As the base coats were brushed on the floor and walls, we could see with our own eyes, in our own house, that we had "done good."

Tonight and tomorrow we will be sleeping by the creek at Merrybrook Lodge, while the work is completed. In truth, we could sleep in our bedroom right here at the cottage, but we'd have no way to fix dinner or get anywhere near the kitchen at all, as that add-on room has no outside doors, and we can't walk across the parlor floor while the paint is wet – the only way to get from the bedroom or any of the entry doors to the kitchen. At least that is my rationale for giving ourselves a couple of days of summer vacation at our favorite resort. With the cost of remodeling and refurnishing giving our budget a headache this year, we won't be doing any other "resorting" in 2009.

Tune in tomorrow, when Fran learns how to attach "before and after" photos to this blog!

NOT About Boulder Creek

2009-05-09T17:34:00.000-07:00

This week it's been all about Santa Barbara, and the incredible Jesusita fire that has caused our family and friends to become refugees. Some have bunked in with friends who live just out of range of the danger – although with the winds sweeping flames east and west at the same time, it's hard to guess what might be out of range tomorrow, if it is safe today. For Jude and Mary Jane, who had taken in friends to their home, it was an object lesson in "safe" – they were evacuated at 2 AM on Friday, along with their guests.

My creative siblings have done the ultimate evacuation: they got in a car and headed to Cambria, a lovely resort on the Pacific, at the beginning of the Big Sur Highway. Those two know how to be refugees: that's got class and style, guys!

This weekend it is beginning to look like the worst is over, fire-wise: but the clean-up will take months, and the rebuilding much longer.

We had planned to go down for a visit in Santa Barbara later this month; but that's been cancelled, as it's not going to be a quick cleanup there, especially with regard to the air. I can't take a chance on exposing my weak lungs to any particulates floating around in my oxygen.

We have waited, worried, prayed, and been very frightened at times; but everyone is breathing easier now that the winds have changed and fog has returned to its usual perch on the Riviera hills.

I know it could certainly be a preview of summer up here in our wooded hills, and we will be extremely vigilant in watching fire news – with a determination to get out of here to safety if there is even a slight danger on the horizon. We love our mountain cottage so very much, but neither it or anything within it is worth risking any danger to our lives.

May Day!

2009-05-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

No, we're not in trouble up here. It's just that I love this first week of May – every year it makes me feel good – Spring has sprung!

We're getting more rain, too: a wonderful thing, as it's usually all over for us, H-2-O wise, by the end of April. Fill the watercourses, dear Lord, we'll need it this summer.

Of course, with rain comes power outage. Our electricity was off all last night, went out around 10 PM and just came back on at 7 AM today. I finished reading the wonderful new novel by Leenie's buddy, Sarah Dunant, by the light of a dim lantern last evening: very appropriate, as it is about life in a convent in Renaissance Tuscany. (Such a great historical love story, you must get and read it, friends, when it is published in mid-July.)

Our horrible virus siege is just about over, after a month of suffering, and that lifts our spirits as much as the coming of May. I guess that, being "old, now" we have to expect that illnesses will take longer to conquer than they once did; we'll also have to take serious steps to avoid picking up viral and bacterial infections.

Now we have seen the last of our guests for a while, and we are finally beginning the work that needs to be done this year on renovation of this cottage of ours. The parlor and guest-room floors are the first project, scheduled for a week from now. While that work is being done (including repainting the horrid orangey-red wall of the alcove in the parlor and ridding ourselves of the ugly chandelier therein) – we will go down and stay at Merrybrook for a couple of days. When the work is done to our satisfaction, we will leave it to dry thoroughly while we head down for the long-delayed visit to Southern California, I think, over a weekend. Our various siblings are clamoring for our presence there, and it will be an opportune time to go. After that, we have a lot of outdoor work to be done, and more finishing touches to be installed for John's study.

By July, we should be able to take a deserved rest during the very warm summer months, lounging on our deck in the shade of the new umbrella table, on our chaise lounges, with a cool lemonade and a good book in hand.

A Long Time

2009-04-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been a long time since I had the time or energy to catch up on this blog, but it's quiet for the moment in Hazel Brake, and I'll do my best to bring you up to date.

One of the reasons for the hiatus is the fact that John and I have been fighting valiantly to overcome a virulent virus that moved in on us at the end of March and is still in the process of moving out, at the end of April. John has been to the clinic once, and myself twice; and I think that at last it is really on its way. (No, it's definitely not the Swine Flu; no pigs up here..... except on KPIG-FM, of course).

During the week following Easter, Eileen and Greg arrived in Boulder Creek to see, at last, the house and property they purchased a year ago. Suffice to say they were delighted with it; and they brought beautiful early-summer warmth with them for the days they were here, which delighted us! We spent a lot of time in the sun on the back deck; they inspired us to gather new outdoor furniture for said deck, and fed us many good meals-out (and in: Greg is quite a fine Frittata-maker!) and took care of me beautifully when I came down with a bout of intestinal disorder during the time they were here. They stayed at a lovely little cottage-in-a-garden down in the village, and I believe they had a good rest and a wonderful visit with The Parentals. We miss them awfully, since they've returned to London.

But the house is so quiet now! And as we are feeling better at last, we are looking forward to doing some serious planning for further renovations and redecorating and furnishing -- many things that we had postponed to do in the Spring. Spring will be a little late, this year (as the song goes); but we'll begin, now, as May waltzes in, and hope to have effected many good changes within the next couple of months on our own.

During the next two "work months" we plan to refurbish the floors in the main part of the house (the parlor and guest room); buy some decent furniture for those rooms; do some needed work on John's "studio" and the garden areas; rodent-proof the cottage thoroughly; and install some safety features on stairways and walkways.

By the time summer comes, we ought to be able to relax a bit -- and enjoy the fruits of our labors, during the rest of the warm weather season.

April Update

2009-04-04T12:32:00.000-07:00

Everybody has gone home, and it's really quiet here in our cottage. March was a fantastic month, full of visitors and house parties, and it was delightful to see some of our Right-Coast clan here, enjoying the lovely forest and the early-Spring weather.

John has come down with a really heavy upper-respiratory and chest infection, however, and as it's been going on for a week now and not getting a lot better, I think I'll take him into our trusty local medical clinic on Monday and find out what's going on. And if he doesn't improve, we may have to cancel our plans to go down to Santa Barbara for the Holy Week services and to visit with siblings and friends there over Easter weekend.

Next?

2009-03-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

Our second round of springtime visitors is in residence at Hazel Brake Cottage; Dave, Kathy and Rowan arrived on Monday morning.

In keeping with ancient tradition, all guests are met at the Crossroads in the village – usually in the Rainbow's End coffeehouse, where we begin the gathering with a fine cup of java, sometimes to music from our ancient local bard. Rainbow has a large room in the back with windows overlooking the creek and a fine collection of toys large and small for toddlers; Rowan had a chance to frolic and work off some pent-up steam, after the long trip to California from New Jersey, while the grownups began the chat-a-thon.

Monday afternoon was spent in acclimatizing and settling in; and once Rowan was fed and bathed and into Dreamland, the four of us feasted on a lovely meal of Renaissance Venison Ragout, crusty bread, and a big avocado salad..... and it was off to Dreamland for us, too.

Yesterday was Tuesday, and after Rowan's early-afternoon nap, I went with the guests (while John stayed home and made lists) for a drive down to the beach at Capitola Village, where the lad and dad played by the surf, and Souffle and I sat on a comfortable bench on the boardwalk and chatted. Later, Julie, Bryan and Danny joined us from their home in nearby Seascape, and we had a grand time watching 13-year-old Cousin Danny teach 3-year-old Rowan how to ride a skateboard in true California Coastal style. When Danny showed off his skate-style, Rowan was entranced, and watched with shining eyes, finally exclaiming loudly, "Holy cow!" The grownups cracked up ..... I took my gang to early supper at a fine Mexican dive near the wharf (the best kind!) and Cousin Stephanie and her boyfriend Jaque joined us there for a while.

After that sea air and fun, we all slept deeply last night.

This morning, it has been Grandpa John's turn to tour-guide; he and the visitors are off on a jaunt to the beautiful Monterey Aquarium. Granny Franny has stayed at the cottage to do some catching up (as here) and bake lemon cookies for everyone's delectation when they return this afternoon.

Tomorrow is Thursday: we'll have a day here in our beautiful woods, and will prepare for the visit in the evening from Joe, Kathie and Josh, who are stopping by for dinner and a visit on their way home from a few days of skiing in the Lake Tahoe area. I'm going to try a new recipe, slow-cooking a piece of boneless pork in the Crock Pot and making pulled pork tacos for a buffet dinner for our eight eaters that evening.

Friday is the last day here for the Lamberts; we hope to take a picnic up to Big Basin State Park at midday, and then we must go out in the evening for a celebration/farewell/birthday dinner at the Tyrolean Inn. Souffle noted that Friday night is "Wild Game Night" there, and we have to find out if this means some denizen of the forest will be our entree, or whether perhaps

we'll find a crazy game of bingo going on instead! Watch this space for the answer ....

After-Words

2009-03-18T09:01:00.000-07:00

Our brief but happy visit with Teri, Tris, and Al is (almost) over; they were here for two days, post-party, before heading south to Santa Barbara for the rest of the week. I say "almost" because we hope to have a late lunch with them this Saturday as they travel back to SF Airport for departure in the evening.

Monday was misting drizzle for part of the day, but that didn't prevent the visitors from a short hike on one of the trails through Big Basin Redwoods; a taco lunch in the village of Felton; and some lovely "sittin' on the deck" here in the sunnier late afternoon. On Tuesday our sun came back, and we had more good visiting over a big breakfast here at the cottage; we took Tris down to Julie's area so he could spend an afternoon and overnight with Cousin Danny D; and then the grownups drove up Bear Creek Road for a tasting at a big mountain winery. We finished with Italian champagne on our sunny deck, followed by a Guinness Beef Stew supper to celebrate St. Patrick's day.

Now ensue some quiet days of getting reorganized, rested, and ready for the Lamberts visit next week!

It's the first day of Spring, dear ones: emulate us, get out and smell the flowers! I'm going to have coffee on the deck this morning ..... see you later.

A Hot Time In The Old BrackenBrae Last Night

2009-03-16T12:47:00.000-07:00

It's been drizzling rain this weekend, but that doesn't stop us northerners!

After our Saturday night trip down to Joe's to attend an Irish music concert in his area, we returned to the cottage Sunday to get ready for the Big Par-tay: Teri had requested a multi-birthday gathering on her arrival with Tris and Al this weekend, to celebrate everyone's natal day since God knows when.

Fourteen people arrived at our little cottage by Sunday afternoon. They were Teri, Tris, and Al (Chace); Teri's best friend Barb, her husband Heru, and their three lovely kids; Joe (Kathie and Josh are in London); Julie and Bryan, Danny and Stef, and Steffie's boyfriend Jaque.

We partied hearty – with lots of potluck food, a nice bit of beer and wine and sodas, and birthday cupcakes for dessert. The four younger kids hung out in the big back bedroom, playing their own kind of crazy music on my piano and Tris's electronic keyboard thing that he brought along; the grownups gathered in the parlor for some fine jazz licks provided by our two guitarists (Al Chace and Barb's husband Heru) – and of course: lots of love and laughter. We sang a group "Happy Birthday/Cha cha cha" song, and gave presents to the Birthday Kids, and told stories and laughed a lot.

Today it's so quiet! We went to breakfast this morning at our funky Rainbow's End cafe. Now John has taken Teri, Tris and Al up to Big Basin State Park for a hike, and I'm blessedly alone here -- the post/party cleanup is done finally, and we're planning a quiet evening by the fire for the five of us, with a pasta supper and early bed.

I'm so glad to have Teri here, however briefly, and to meet Al; and Tris is a delightful house-guest.

Tomorrow we hope to get together with Julie, and Tris will stay overnight at her place to spend some time with Cousin Danny.

Wednesday morning Teri and Al will pick Tris up at Julie's and meet Joe at the Monterey Aquarium for a tour of that great spot – and then the visitors will drive down to Santa Barbara for a couple of days in the Southland.

On their way back to SFO, they hope to stop off somewhere near here (perhaps in the San Jose area) where we can meet them for an early supper, before their overnight flight back to the East Coast.

I'll try to keep you up on this visit over the next few days, so stay tuned.

P-Day

2009-03-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

(That's "Party Day," folks. I am just sitting and waiting for 16 people to show up for dinner this evening. Just sitting .... and waiting .... for I can do no more. The food is cooked, the cupcakes frosted, the house as clean is it will ever get. And I'm sitting and waiting, and thinking: I am so lucky, to have all these children and grandchildren and adopted children and adopted grandchildren (in this case, Teri's friends Barb and Heru and their kids) coming to spend some time with me.

I don't know if I'll have time during the next couple of weeks of visitations, to keep up with this blog; but I will try to enter something here every day – just for those of you who can't be here with us this time – to remind you of how important the occasional family reunions are. They both honor and foster the great love that suffuses this clan – "the love that from our birth, over and around us lies."

Coming Home

2009-03-04T17:32:00.000-08:00

It was very good for me to get away this past weekend, even to a God-forsaken place like Anaheim. (Well, there was plenty of godliness at the Religious Education Congress, though – even if I didn't attend the sessions, I felt good about what happens there.) Melissa and I did get to hear a dynamic, wonderful speaker named Jack Jezreel, who founded the national "JustFaith" program in which I participated a couple of years ago at Trinity in Santa Barbara, so I was not entirely boycotting the Catholic goings-on. I also had a chance to meet again with two people with whom I worked at St. Mark's a few years ago – Fr. Joe Scott, and dear Shannon (who drove up from San Juan Capistrano just to have coffee with me). I also had fun with my sister, and it was good to spend time with her and with my brother.

But it was wonderful to come home; we flew through stormy skies on the way to San Jose airport, but as we were landing I saw a gorgeous full-arc rainbow over the runway, welcoming me back.

It's been rainy and cool since my return, as winters are here in the wooded hills; and I've had time to settle into my dear cottage again, catch up with John, and get back into a routine.

We have a week and a half of quiet, now, before the influx of Spring visitors. Then on March 15, it begins: Teri, Tris and Al will be in Boulder Creek for three days, before driving down to Santa Barbara to visit there. On March 23, the Lamberts Three arrive for a week's stay. During the days just before Easter, we will be visitors ourselves, in Santa Barbara – we'll attend the Holy Week services on Thursday through Saturday at our beloved Trinity parish, and have Easter with my siblings; and will have a chance on Easter Monday to see Julie's gang and greet the Londoners at the Rincon Beach cottage – before returning to our home. At the end of that post-Easter week, the Londoners come to Boulder Creek for four days! So beginning in mid-March, our quiet time will be over for a while.

Today has been a kaleidoscope of storm and sun; at one point I gazed out the little window by my desk in the "Sanctuary" room and saw huge raindrops glittering like diamonds as the sun illumined the branches of the evergreens and highlighted the pale-pink blossoms on our flowering plum tree. We are surrounded by beauty, and ever grateful.

Down, down to Disneyland

2009-02-27T11:29:00.000-08:00

Having safely negotiated the cattle-car exigencies of air travel on Wednesday, I arrived in beautiful, sunny and warm Santa Barbara and was whisked away by Melissa to her place for a reviving cuppa tea. We had an early dinner with our bro, and then went out to La Casa de Maria for a spirituality training session that my sis attends weekly these days. The subject of the evening was Death; actually appropriate for Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten period. Someone pointed out during the discussion that Carl Sagan had once reminded his listeners that the human body is made up of stardust; and walking back to the car after the meeting, we saw that the clear skies were pulsating with that energy (amazing expanses of stars and planets and the new moon).

Thursday morning I had time to have my hair cut and styled (something we mountain women just don't bother with on a regular basis, but I had come down to the urban plane and needed to spruce up a bit). I met a dear friend from Trinity Parish for an early lunch and catch-up on news; and then Sis and I drove down to MouseLand. The roadtrip through Los Angeles traffic left us feeling beat, so we had a light supper in the hotel room and a long, deep sleep.

Today, Melissa is over at the huge convention center, with about 50,000 other religious liberals, listening to some preaching-to-the-choir. I have sole occupancy of the nice big hotel room with sliding glass doors to a small balcony and view of the garden and pool area below.

I come along to these weekends to have some girl-time with my sis, and some quiet time on my own for writing and meditating. (Last year I spent a lot of the time here in working out what I felt about retirement and the move to our current new location in Boulder Creek. That was a very fruitful exercise, as all my readers now know.

This year, I am preparing to launch the writing of my life story with a sentimental journey home to the town where I grew up, Ann Arbor MI. I will spend a little time today looking at and sorting out travel data for that trip, planned for late May/early June of this year. And I am also going through the assignments in a workbook on autobiography, "Courage and Craft: Writing Your Life Into Story." I have been working on this for the past couple of months, and it's a very good warmup exercise, I'm finding.

Oops: it's lunchtime! Back later; I have a salad and a bit of bread left from last night's room-service supper – that'll do.

Up, up and away

2009-02-25T11:21:00.000-08:00

Hi there folks:

I'm writing this from the San Jose International (!) Airport; and I'm on my way soon to Santa Barbara. Am I not so cool, for a 73-year-old grandmother? Blogging from the airport on my laptop – it's a piece of cake.

Today I'm visiting and staying with my little sister and brother; tomorrow morning I have a couple of coffee/lunch dates and a few errands to run; and in the afternoon, Melissa and I are driving down to Anaheim. No, we're definitely NOT going to Disneyland. Sis is attending the Religious Education Congress at the Anaheim Convention Center; I'm just along for the ride and planning to do some heavy-duty writing on said laptop, during the daytime at the Sheraton Park Hotel.

I think I'll run a daily blog as a record of this trip and to let you know what's happening in Southern California these days.

Sigh

2009-02-23T11:25:00.000-08:00

Well, I owe Julie a lunch now. She did a fantastic job of prognosticating the Oscars. I do agree with her that all three of the top films (Slumdog, B. Button, and Frost/Nixon) were deserving in just about any of the categories.

Overall, however, I don't think 2008 was the best Oscar year. In any year you can mention there have always been some fine performances and beautiful cinematography, and this one was no exception; it's the reason I'll always love movies.

But now I'll just indulge in a little nostalgia. Was there anything this year as fine as "On The Waterfront," or "Gone With The Wind" or "2001" or "The Godfather" or "Chinatown" or "Lawrence of Arabia"?

It certainly may be true that my taste in films was formed in ancient times, and so my evaluation of "Best" is colored by those I saw when I was younger. (My mother loved really silly old romantic comedies that I would find cloying; but I certainly inherited her taste for musicals, and would love to rewatch "Gigi" or "Oklahoma" or "7 Brides for 7 Brothers" any time they are available..... Turner Classic Movies was my favorite TV channel when we had a TV.)

I'm always interested in new trends in movies though: I want to see "Coraline" when it comes to our little backwoods Santa Cruz area. I saw previews of "Waltz with Bashir" and found it a fascinating attempt, but I could not stand to watch it for the subject matter.

Now I have to go to CNN.com and have a look at the Academy red carpet dresswear!

Fran's Oscar Picks

2009-02-21T14:06:00.000-08:00

Here are my picks for the 2009 Academy Awards

(tune in Sunday, Feb. 22, to see how I fare).

Actor/Lead: Sean Penn, for Milk

Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman for Doubt

Actress/Lead: Anne Hathaway for Rachel Getting Married

Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Animated Feature (guess): WALL-E

Art Direction: Curious Case of B. Button

Costume Design and Makeup: Curious Case of B. Button

Cinematography: Slumdog Millionaire

Director: Ron Howard for Frost/Nixon

Picture: Milk

Writing (original screenplay): Milk

Writing (adapted) Curious Case of B. Button

Stormy Weather

2009-02-19T16:16:00.000-08:00

Last weekend's storm brought 10 inches of much needed ground-water to our valley – within 10% of our normal quota for a year without drought. Let us pray that the coming weekend's predicted hydro-technics bring us up to the prospect of a lovely summer here in our verdant hills.

Oscars A-Weigh!

2009-02-18T17:28:00.000-08:00

There is a very tough decision to be made for Best Actor in a Leading Role this year: two fine thespians portray two famous men who were admired and hated in equal strength during their lifetimes.

I just saw "Frost/Nixon" today, and it is indeed a good film (Ron Howard directs with the same punchy verve he has brought to other works, notably "A Beautiful Mind" and "Apollo 13").

The first Oscar-worthy film I saw this season was "Milk" – and I opined at the very beginning that it was the film and performance to beat this year.

I still have to stay with my original impression – partly because although Frank Langella's Nixon (most effectively) and Michael Sheen's Frost portrayals were both excellent, these guys were reprising the roles they played in the Broadway and London stage productions of "Frost/Nixon." However, since "Milk" was the right film at the right time, I predict it will take Best Picture; and because Sean Penn so completely immersed himself in a role that bears no resemblance to his own persona, I think he should take Best Actor.

Tune in tomorrow when Julie and I plan to post our final Oscar predictions in list form. Anyone can play! So if you want to check in with your choices in any or all categories, just click on "Comments" and fire away! The Oscar show is this coming Sunday, February 22, so jump in.

Bollywood Redux

2009-02-11T11:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the intrepid movie critics, accompanied by my doggy friend, went to a good Indian restaurant for lunch and to a local cinema for a pretty good Indian-clone film, "Slumdog Millionaire." We all enjoyed the lunch – (thanks again, Julie, for the food and for the so-appropriate birthday gift of a lovely sheer wool stole from India).

The reactions of the three of us to the movie were not exactly uniform, however.

John was grinning when the credits were rolling; although this director, Danny Boyle, was a child of Great Britain, John said that he'd created a very authentic take on the sort of soap-opera movies he'd watched on TV in New Delhi – complete with evil gangsters, thwarted lovers, and a happy ending with dancing. He added that when he had driven through the slums of Delhi a few years ago, they certainly looked much more horrible than anything he'd just seen on the silver screen.

My reaction was somewhat parallel to that of my consort. I thought that even the garbage and the latrine slime had a sort of ethereal glow-look, and that the whole film was bathed in dreamy Technicolor light. And the conclusion, offering the vision of happily-ever-after, was completely unrealistic given the horrors those lovers had endured from birth.

But I think Julie's reaction illuminated the reason this film has been so widely acclaimed: she said, "I loved it! I've decided I love a film that makes me feel good." I think everyone does, and especially now when there is so much of a mood of crisis and worry in the world.

Julie, you should certainly add your comments and rebuttals to this, as I believe you saw something more in the movie than I did.

The performances were all excellent, however, and the emphasis on the value of truth-telling was striking and unusual in a film.

I thought about "Benjamin Button" in conjunction with "Slumdog," because they both present a fable rather than graphic realism. I wonder if there isn't a parallel between these sorts of stories and the cheery movies of the Depression era.

I still favor "Milk" as Best Picture; we will try to catch "Frost/Nixon" next week, before I summarize.

73

2009-02-06T12:05:00.000-08:00

I't's my birthday! Good grief; I'm supposed to write Something Profound, I suppose, as I turn toward my 74th year on this earth.

I love life: but that doesn't seem especially "deep," I fear. Still, I think my love for life has been my sustenance and courage during all the ups and especially the downs that came my way over the years.

I know I've been very blessed by God; so many good things and great people have come my way that I can't begin to enumerate them all (but Beloveds, you know who you are).

Have I never been discouraged, despairing, distraught? Of course I have; but always, always I've come through the bad tunnels and out into the light again, even unto this latest and best of times.

The Sage can offer only two things I know, now:
There's a dance in the old girl yet; and life just gets better and better as it goes on.

MY BALLOT (SO FAR)

2009-02-05T17:33:00.000-08:00

HAVE SEEN:
Best Picture: Milk
Best Director: Gus Van Sant, for Milk
Best Lead Actor: Sean Penn for Milk
Best Actress, lead: Anne Hathaway for Rachel Getting Married
Best Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman for Doubt;
Best Supporting Actress, Penelope Cruz for Vicki Cristina Barcelona.
Cinematography: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Screenplay (original) Milk

HAVE NOT SEEN, BUT GUESSING:
Documentary: Man On Wire
Screenplay (adaptation): Frost/Nixon

HOPE TO SEE THIS MONTH:
Slumdog Millionaire
Frost/Nixon

Movie Nuts

2009-02-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's the Fran and Julie Show again: we've been trying to see all the bigger contenders for the Academy Awards that we can find in the Santa Cruz area. (It's not as easy as it was for me in Santa Barbara – otherwise known as Hollywood By The Sea – where all the newest and greatest films seem to screen as soon as they come out of the starting gate.)

So, yesterday we saw "Revolutionary Road." Don't. I'd heard it was a downer, so I was prepared for that: I wore all black, in fact, as a gesture of sympathy. But there was no one in the least sympathetic in that film. The two protagonists were so self-involved and self-destructive, so shallow in fact, that I just sat there thinking, "So what?" (I have to confess that I just don't get women who find raising children, caring for one's family and keeping house to be a living death.) P.S.: And to top it off, as my acerbic daughter Leenie commented, "Leo Di Caprio has gotten podgy".

So far, we have seen the following films that are in the running in major categories: Milk; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Rachel Getting Married; Doubt; and Vicki Cristina Barcelona.

We want to see Frost/Nixon and Slumdog Millionaire, because they are likely to be in the running during the final lap.

There are some smaller films we've missed because they just haven't been shown in Santa Cruz; if they win any honors we may get to see them later (at the top of that to-do list is "Frozen River").

So what are your picks for the major categories? I call those Best: Picture; Actors/Lead /Supporting; Actresses/ditto; Direction; Art Direction; Screenplays/Orig. and Adapted; Documentary; and if you care, Costume Design.

All entries invited here: and Ju and I will reveal our choices after we hear from some of you at least.

My New Avocation:

2009-01-28T10:18:00.000-08:00

Public Relations Maven. Who knew?

Here's how it's coming about: Leenie's writer friend, Sarah Dunant, is gearing up for the US release of a third novel in her series on women in the Italian Renaissance – and she is planning a publicity tour in the States in the fall of 2009. Her last two books both hit the NYT bestseller list, and this new one should, too. The subject is convent life in Italy during the Counter-Reformation and the church's oppression of women therein.

Because there are modern parallels to be drawn, Sarah believes (and so do I) that there could be a very reasonable rationale for discussion of the book in the light of church politics in the 21st century. The story of the Immaculate Heart Sisters and their standoff against Cardinal McIntyre in Los Angeles in the late 1960s comes to mind (and it's not that long ago, folks); and the current conflict in the Roman and Anglican churches regarding women's ordination seems pretty pertinent also.

Sarah was discussing the marketing of the new book with Leenie recently, and she said that since she has no real acquaintance with American Catholicism, she wondered if my daughter knew how she might gain some access to leaders and movers/shakers in liberal religious circles over the pond. Eureka: let's ask Fran!

Since I admire Dunant's writing for its well researched historical detail and lively style and have read the first two in the Renaissance series (and am eagerly awaiting publishers' proofs of the third), I agreed to see what I could do.

This public relations work is basically what John and I dub "nexializing" – a nexialist is one who connects – people, businesses, groups, etc. – for their mutual benefit. John's work as a consultant consisted of a lot of that sort of thing, and I'm a careful observer, so perhaps I learned more than I thought during the years in Europe. At any rate, I decided to see what I could do for Sarah.

Networking like a mad ferret, so far I have connected the author with Dr. Ann Taves, the Catholic Studies chair at UCSB, whom I know slightly via St. Mark's days; by good fortune, she had been looking for writers on book tours as guest lecturers for her Fall 2009 season. After doing a little research on Sarah's works, she took the suggestion of inviting Dunant to speak at the Interdisciplinary Department in cooperation with their Renaissance Studies wing, to her deparment head. That worthy said that he doubted they could tempt a best-selling author; Ann (laughing quietly to herself) replied that Dunant had already come to her!

Since Taves is on academic leave at Stanford this winter, I asked her if she had any San Francisco connections that might be interested in hosting Sarah while she is touring in the Bay Area; of course she does, and she's busily connecting things herself now, working directly with her NoCal colleagues and Dunant to set something up.

What else? I gave Sarah the names of the Catholic publications that might be interested in reviewing her book (Commonweal, America, National Catholic Reporter) – and some writers I know about who should receive advance copies of the book for possible jacket blurbs (Kathleen Norris, Joan Chittister, Nora Gallagher, et al). For ammunition when she meets with her publicists at Random House/NY in February, I also suggested two indy bookstores in Santa Barb that would be good venues for a book signing (Chaucer's, and Tecolote "where Oprah shops for books").

Do I dare tackle Oprah? A book-of-the-month push from her sure would help sales .... hmmm. No, I think Random House ought to try to get through that gilded door.

My next big push, after Sarah has a definite date in my old home town, is to get an evening meet/greet thing set up there for people who can't attend university lectures and don't like standing in line at bookstores. Stay tuned: I have some good ideas in mind.

I'm Off And Running

2009-01-26T10:22:00.000-08:00

Monday morning dawns, and Julie and I have a shopping and lunch date in Capitola, the Capital of Cute. I have an interesting tale to tell about my new avocation as a publicity maven; stay tuned.

Come Saturday Mornin'

2009-01-24T11:16:00.000-08:00

I'm staying at home with my friend .... to paraphrase an old song I love. It's a drizzly, grey day, just the sort to induce cocooning. The house is so quiet, at 11 AM; John is in his little Study Shack, enjoying his own private time for writing and organizing. We had a good earlyish brunch of pancakes and sausage and OJ; won't need lunch today! In the afternoon, my consort plans to work on transferring old music to new media (LP records and cassette tapes go to CD and then the shells get recycled). I must make a short run down to the village to the library and "Johnnie's Super" some time before 5 PM, but I plan to spend most of the afternoon doing writing exercises from my training manual for writing memoirs, "Courage & Craft" by Barbara Abercrombie. She offers a very useful home-course in "Writing Your Life Into Story" – and I'm beginning to do her Five Minute Exercises, which she uses in her classes. She throws out a topic; you take five minutes only, and just write, without stopping for contemplation or editing. It's easier than it sounds, because if you get stumped she suggests you just write "I'm stumped, why?" or anything else that comes from the subconscious to the paper (or monitor) until the creative juices lead you on to the end of the five minutes. I think it is right in line with the dictum that "the only way to be a writer is to write." I've tried about four or five of these exercises and it's surprising how much I can think of to say in that small period of time. But then I've always been excessively wordy, so it's a good thing that the next portion of Abercrombie's book deals with Editing. There, I ought to shine, as I am known as "The Slasher" in copyediting circles. The question remains whether I can be as brutal with myself as I've been with others. Stay tuned (I'll try to be honest!)

The Day After

2009-01-21T16:32:00.000-08:00

"What a night! What a night!" Paul Simon exclaims during the famous Simon and Garfunkel Concert in Central Park. I felt that way yesterday: "What a day!" We were floating on air, up here in Boulder Creek. The first deep breath i was able to draw was after the ceremony, when I could reassure myself that it had actually happened, that no shots rang out, just songs of joy. I thought the blissful look on the faces of the members of Yo Yo Ma's quartet as they played the blissful strains of "Simple Gifts" said it all.

Now the real work begins, of course. I'm guessing O was up and running this morning, even after the taking of the oath of office, the dancing and celebrating, and – I'm betting – a sleepless night. (His girls were having a slumber party at their new home, and you know what that means: No Slumber, for anybody in the house.) But I think he will move with careful deliberation and with courage and strength, toward his closest-held goals. As long as we all move our goals along with him, we can turn this world around. Let's roll! Let's eradicate the horror we've felt since 2001 when we first heard that call to action that led to death. Let's roll this chariot along to a better life for every man, woman and child on this beautiful Earth.

That Free(dom) Concert!

2009-01-18T16:07:00.000-08:00

Wow; I don't know how it struck everyone else, but I thought that was a wowzer 90 minutes of good music. What a time it must have been to be down there by the reflecting pool, singing along.

I am filled with American spirit when I hear something like that, and listen to Obama speak; and how I do pray that he will carry through on his promises and his professed ideals and hopes.

I guess those who know me well realize that I'm not 100% on the bandwagon; I've been disappointed so many, many times in the past by so many politicians and world leaders, that it's hard for me to believe.

Perhaps having gone through the 60s and 70s, riding that great wave of hope that my generation was blessed to experience – and then having all the breath knocked out of me by the assassinations and the broken promises, the police brutality and the cynical politics of the Chicago convention in 1968, and watching the Kent State students mowed down, and on and on – I may be irredeemably unhopeful about political solutions.

But my essential hope and belief in humankind is still intact, thank you: and I can really get behind Obama's appeal to the common man to make this happen. Yes, we can: if we will.

A Race To The Post

2009-01-17T13:19:00.001-08:00

I know, I know: fillies race FROM the starting post. But I ain't no filly any more, and I'm not above an attempt to list above the rest of you blogger blokes, on the Jimmasphere site.

Yesterday my beloved and I had to make an expotition to downtown Felton (Pop 5000) to do some banking and a bit o' shopping, so we stopped for lunch there at the Cowboy Diner-Bar-Cafe (i.e., Greg Horne's "find" in San Lorenzo Valley). We started with an hors d'oeuvres plate of Yam Puffs with Jalapeno Jelly and Ranch Dipping Sauces; John had a Pulled Pork BBQ Sandwich; and I ordered a medium-rare bacon/cheese burger (luncheon size). These were all fine choices.

(The fact that I have had Rumbling Gut Syndrome overnight had nothing to do with this, right?)

It's a quiet day in Lake Wobegon West today; we'll listen (as ever) to Prairie Home Companion this evening -- Patty Loveless is a guest this time, a fine girl.

Tomorrow we are skipping church (gasp! horrors!) in order to be home at 11 AM PST, for the start of the DC festivities. That is to say, "We'll pray with you, Bishop Robinson" - to paraphrase Simon & Garfunkel - and pray throughout the ceremonies for our Barack to turn this world around, and to be safe doing it.

Gassing Up

2009-01-16T11:57:00.001-08:00

Today we had to have an "Amerigas" truck come out to fill our propane tank (its fuel heats our home and cooks our meals: so convenient); the ugly tank sits up on our back parking area, but it is part of mountain wilderness living, like the beater cars in some yards, or the also-ugly white canvas tent-garages - just a part of the scene up here.

But I saw another "part of the scene" yesterday that makes up for the rural eyesores: as I was driving down our lane to get the mail and go to the village for groceries, I came to a stop before a beautiful, lithe fawn who was standing politely by the side of the road. When I came to the halt, she looked at me, but still waited; as I moved slowly on, I saw in my rear vision mirror that she was now leaping gracefully across and into the woods on the other side of the lane. That was a magical, transcendent encounter, I can tell ya.

So once the tank is filled and we pay the horrendous charges for same, we are off to do some big-time shopping in the marketing and industrial center of Felton, down the road – and probably to get some good grub at the Cowboy Bar and Grill in town. It's a lovely day for an outing, sunny and in the 60s.

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep

2009-01-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

There have been so many comments on my "Dark Side" entry that I want to say a bit more, especially for those who don't go back to check comments on old posts.

Some of the entries indicate that we might be shocked, or that some of the lustre of this beautiful spot may have tarnished somewhat, with the intrusion of death in our compound up here.

I want to assure you that is not the way it is. Maybe because we are "old-now" as Teri would say, I think we see death as pretty darned inevitable (and is it not?) We love life a lot. But all of us are headed south, so to speak.

In fact, that man's sad departure makes us more aware of the beauty of each day that we are given; another day to love the people we love, to glory in nature's bounty, to enjoy breathing in and out, good food in plenty, and sunshine on our shoulder.

I just have to say one thing about suicide, though: we know that people in severe depression and despair think mostly of escaping their pain – and usually feel that everyone would be better off without them. I hope that if I ever reach that point (and who has not feared it could happen to them?) I will be able to hold onto the lifeline of knowledge that I would leave behind people who will have to live not only with sorrow of loss but also with guilt, anger, self-recrimination – and danger of their own falling into the pit of despond. That is not a nice farewell gift, to be sure.

So, although every man's death diminishes me, and I know the bell tolls for me too, I can accept this as part of the package: Life is so beautiful; at least it has been for me, and I'm very, very grateful for every day I've had on this earth.

"The Curious Tail ....

2009-01-14T12:35:00.000-08:00

.... of Benjamin Bunny" .... anyway that's my approximation of the title of Brad Pitt's new film -- which Julie and I went to see on Monday. Actually, we enjoyed it a lot: but then, Ju and I like to weep over sad and romanic movies (and she likes to look at Brad). (Personally, in the Newman/Redford Debate that has been ensuing on a recent e-thread, we decided you are either a Newman or a Redford person; I'm the first, Julie is the second, so we understand she'd like Brad.)

Two hours and 40 minutes is a long time for any story to hold attention, and there are some slow moments in the fable; but it's a lavishly filmed digital journey backwards through time; and for you men, Cate Blanchett is quite lovely. I'll even give Brad 3 stars at least; he works hard in this one and it shows. I must add I didn't really cry until the baby dies; but that gets me as much as sad-dog stories kill Julie.

So what are the movies to beat, for Academy Awards? I'm saying "Milk," for now; I was wowed by it;; but I haven't seen "Frost/Nixon" or "Slumdog" yet. I thought the Golden Globes were a joke; how could they have slighted "Doubt"?? (I felt Streep's performance was over the top, but Philip Seymour Hoffman was absolutely sterling, and the New Yorker critic who dissed Amy Adams' work was wrong. It's hard to stand up to the great Meryl, and I thought she did it well.)

The Famous Critic Pair, Julie and Fran, are off to see "Revolutionary Road" next week. Julie liked Clint's new flick, and I want to see that soon.

We accept all nominations from the floor, so chime in with your favorites!

The Dark Side

2009-01-07T15:00:00.000-08:00

Just about all of what I write here is sweetness-and-light, no? Sorry, folks; this enchanted garden does have a Serpent; and it has reared its ugly head. Of course all of life – like all of the life inside of us – has a shadow side; it reminds us that we are not yet in eternal Light.

Yesterday afternoon, the knock on our front door introduced us to two deputies from the County Sheriff's office – never a good omen when you open the door and see the badges. They wanted to ask a few questions: (1) had we heard any gunshot sounds during the morning? and (2) had we heard any loud noises of argument or shouting? Negative answers on both counts. (Loud noises and gunshots? In this bucolic exurban Paradise?)

The brave and loyal officers would not tell me anything more. They asked if we know a couple who live in a ramshackle house halfway down our Hazel Brake hillside. At the mention of their names, I recognized them as the Bracken Brae residents who have been under the scrutiny of our neighbors, Ted and Teresa – who have made many unsuccessful attempts to get them to clean out the mess evident on their property, including old, dead cars and bicycles, a lot of trash, and (it is said) a nest of rodents that were beginning to roam farther afield. Finally, Teresa has been collecting signatures, ours included, with the intention to submit a petition to the county supervisors' office. ..... I said the truth, that we knew their names but had never met the couple. The men thanked us and departed.

After us, they went next door to talk to Peter, and later he told us that he tracked the officers down to the aforesaid property, where investigators had put up the well-recognized yellow tape lines; and he was informed that the man had just died of gunshot wounds to his head – probably self-inflicted, but evidence was still being gathered.

We prayed then, for God's mercy upon the poor guy. Having had two dear friends succumb to the horror and despair of suicide, we feel very deeply for its victims.

So, death has shadowed our beautiful forest; it should not be unexpected, for death is a part of life, as I've said. Another neighbor, old and sick, died before Christmas; that is a natural and inevitable occurrence. But violent and unnatural death is more of a shock.

It is a sad but salutary reminder to choose life, and live it to the full, every lovely day that we are given on this earth.

On the 12th Day ....

2009-01-06T15:04:00.000-08:00

... the partridge is about to come down from the (Christmas) tree, as the holiday comes to its inevitable end .... sigh ....
But we still have Twelfth Night (Epiphany)! So this evening we plan to light all the candles as darkness draws in around our little cottage, and illuminate the tree, and toast the end of our first Christmas season in our new home, with a cup of Wassail (hot spiced wine, you know) – and we'll pour a bit on the garden soil in back of our deck, as a libation to Mother Earth – to ensure a good flowering and greening in our forest, come springtime.
I have a Venison Stew bubbling in the crockpot this afternoon, which shall be the filling for a Renaissance Meat Pie for dinner, accompanied by fresh pear halves filled with cranberry relish -- and a good bottle of red vino, of course.
This first of (we hope) many holidays to come in our forest enclave was very peaceful and lovely. My own quiet times in front of the fire alight in our wood stove on cold rainy days, as I fought off my annual cough with warm wraps and hot tea, were very comfortable; the illness provided a perfect excuse to stay indoors and do nothing, while not really making me feel too sick. Lovely!
John kindly ran errands and cooked, and brought me tea and meds; and we both enjoyed the long dark evenings, watching the tree lights twinkle and our candles glowing, listening to all our Christmas albums on the stereo.
We have had our share of visitors (and visiting, once I felt better); Joe and Kathie came with Josh for a nice pasta dinner before Christmas; Julie and her family shared Christmas Day dinner with us here; my young friend Janelle came up from Berkeley for an overnight stay; and after New Year 2009 dawned, we joined Joe & Co. in Marina for a fabulous Mexican feast, and we all met with Julie for a delicious lunch in Capitola the next day.
And now, we are about to settle in for a long winter's quiet time, getting back to a daily routine of writing and music – and household chores when needed. It should be very quiet for the next two months, as visitors don't want to cope with the icy cold and the rains that will mark January and February. We won't stray far afield, either, for the same reasons! It's a time for cocooning.
When Spring begins to bud forth, in March and April, we expect to have many guests: Teri and Tris are coming in March for a week in California; Kathy, Dave and Rowan will follow them a bit later in that month; and then as Lent concludes, we will be in Santa Barbara for the Holy Week observances at our Trinity parish, Easter dinner with my siblings, and a welcome to California as Eileen and Greg arrive for Easter Week at the Rincon Beach cottage. And after we get home again, the "Brits" are coming up here for their first look at their homestead, as guests of us Homesteaders!
I'm sure that 2009 will bring many more pilgrims on their way to us; and our Sanctuary here in the mountains will welcome them all.
We now await the first big event of the new year: the Presidential Inauguration on January 20. Even more avidly do we await the events that follow that historic day, as we watch to see what President Obama and the US lawmakers can do to restore hope, peace, and justice to a world so sorely in need.
May this year bring to us all those three gifts! Amen.

On The 4th Day of Christmas ....

2008-12-28T13:55:00.001-08:00

..... It's a quiet Sunday afternoon here in the woods; and I'm finally finding a little time to reflect on what the Merry Season has meant for us this year.

I've been fighting a respiratory infection for the last two weeks, so I've been very thankful that the usual chores intrinsic to Christmas preparations were well and truly done early in December. Thus, the last week-plus of the Advent time I've been able to spend wrapped in warmth, as the rains and cold weather swept into our north woods. Many a day I sat before the wood stove in the parlor, with a wooly throw over my lap, reading a bit and dozing – while John, my dear, ran about stoking the fire, shopping for groceries, and cooking nourishing meals. And I've slept, oh how I have slept! (I have to get out of this 10-hours-a-night routine soon!)

But in spite of that, we've had some very nice little celebration times. Joe, Kathie, and Josh came up in early December for a supper before the fire, bringing lovely gifts for us before they had to go down to Santa Barbara for the holiday. And on Christmas night, Julie and her family came along for dinner, bringing more gifts to delight us. In the meantime, the UPS, FedEx, and post-person made almost daily treks up the mountain to bring us packages from everywhere. We have been so blessed!

Well, there are eight more days until Twelfth Night signals the end of the Yuletide celebrations; we plan to carry on as we've begun, with quiet days and nights in our woodland home, surrounded by lovely gifts – and the loveliest gift of all is the knowledge of the joy that we hear when we speak to each of our family members by phone or electronic communications. Though most of us are far apart in physical distance, I know we all are together in spirit.

Where Did The Time Go? Now There Are Two!

2008-12-23T10:07:00.000-08:00

Good Heavens! I missed a day; not at all surprising, at this point in the calendar. In fact I've missed quite a few days, with this bug I've been fighting; so today, we bundled up and fared forth in some welcome sunshine at noon, to face the madding crowds at the Safeway grocery. But first, we stopped for sustenance at Heavenly Cafe, on the way to the shopping center; they served up a celestial hot potato soup and real home-roasted turkey sandwiches. Thus prepared, we barged our way into the supermarket and got everything anyone could possibly need in the way of holiday foodstuffs – in only an hour of concerted effort on both our parts. ("You tackle the produce department, I'll find the Latkes mix and the whipping cream.")
Now safely home, we can see that the puffy little white clouds are developing some muscle, and the rains that have been promised again for tonight through Christmas should be coming soon.
But all is well, really; we have warmth and light, so far – and lovely music in the evenings. We bought a full recording of "Die Fledermaus" with the great Kiri Te Kanawa singing Rosalinde; and a fine fruitcake from Gethsemani Abbey Farm. Those are our Christmas gifts to ourselves.
Our crazy neighbor and good friend Peter has outdone himself in decorating the outside and roof of his funky house; you could even say it glows! We knew we had a myriad of tiny white lights strung around our oak trees in the front yard, so didn't think about getting anything else for outside; but alas, it turns out none of the strings will light up. (However, there's plenty of warmth and light inside this cottage; and at night our tree lights are visible far and wide.) Next year we will do something about exterior decorating for the holidays – no inflatable Santas or Disney Pooh characters, we promise.
Is everybody ready for Christmas Eve?

Yippee-Ay-Aye, Four Days Away

2008-12-21T15:29:00.000-08:00

Happy Solstice, everyone! Now the world will be turning toward the morning, until "Sumer Is Icumen In" -- and we await the Light of Christmas Day.

I'd love to hear what each of you are doing as the days dwindle down; if you have time, leave me a comment when you check in here.

Here's what we've been up to:
Our superb butcher at Johnnie's Super, who hails from the British Midlands, was able to find venison stew meat for us at a supplier, and we have filled a corner of our freezer with the luscious packets he put up for us. I see a Renaissance Meat Pie in our near future!

Yesterday morning, I put on a wonderful crockpot full of a pound of the venison, with all the accoutrements required to make a hot and spicy Goulasch; it scented the house all day, and was utterly delicious when we partook of it in the evening. (If anyone wants the fantastic recipe I used, let me know -- it included dried cranberries and mushrooms and a lot of yummy stuff.)

In the late afternoon we lit candles at the kitchen dining table and finished off a (reheated) treat from the day before – baked apple stuffed with raisins, brown sugar and cinnamon (with a wee dollop of vanilla ice cream on top); it made a loverly little afternoon tea treat.

I'm still confined to house-arrest, but getting better gradually; John does all the running around, and it ain't easy either: the weather has turned cold and drizzly. But he got out to church this morning, and did a job of grocery procurement; and when he came in I had made a soup out of last evening's Hirsch-Goulasch, so that warmed him up nicely. He's napping right now!

This evening after the fire is lit, as the rain pelts down outside, we will have our Advent Wreath ceremony – and then we'll light all the little candles in the parlor and listen to music ... and thank God for our cozy and safe little home.

Updates from the Rockport Weekend Celebration

2008-12-20T14:11:00.000-08:00

Here are a couple of notes from my girls Leenie and Teri, as they gather with other clan members for a pre-Christmas celebration in Massachusetts .... even the current good old nor'easter blizzard can't stop the fun!
-----------------------------------
Eileen sent this on Saturday morning:

Hey MA,
we are here, in Boston, safe and sound, in the airport hilton, we had a good nights sleep (8 hours!) and Rosie and Linda are going to drive us up to Glosta a little later. Can't wait. Teri tells me she is snowed in, the plows havent' come yet! Remember those days?! Anyway her boys are thrilled and throwing snowballs etc. And Greg is like a little kid, being an Aussie the whole idea of a white Christmas is just a big treat for him!
I did bring my computer in the end, as I wanted to keep writing. Will send some more dispatches if you like, still humming away on the Medici theme tune...
Hope all is cozy and lovely there.
Souffle clan coming thru this eve and we'll do the Rockport xmas pageant, but first I will get a treatment from Rosie (Cranial osteopathy I think!) and have a nap.

Love and hugs
Leenie xxx
------------------

and Teri sent this, on Saturday afternoon:

Hey Ma....last email for a bit now...it's 2:30 pm ish out here and here's the latest:
Rosie and Linda picked up Leenie and Greg for me, in their Toyota Tank, a big help and efficient, actually. They are now at the Tuck Inn, having a nap. Rosie and Linda came over here and the five of us dug into my massive homemade lasagna and some nice crusty baguette...then we ate some Christmas cookies made by me and Wes last night (the Christmas Piggy! the Christmas dolphin, of course)...now everyone is outside with Buddy (who ADORES snow and is careening around), shoveling, throwing snowballs, and uncovering my car. We will soon head over to Rockport, the little town that time forgot and the decades cannot improve...
Dave text-ed me from the Mass Pike a few minutes ago, they are making good progress. We estimate they will join us in Rockport around 4 pm-ish.
We will not bring Buddy with us to Rockport...last year, the farm animals TERRIFIED him; he is a big baby.
So the Annual Rockport Christmas Pageant, complete with baaaaaing sheep and Donkey Odie and Ladies o' Bethlehem and Wise Guys and narrator with Boston accent (Luke's version....Dave, as you may know, waits to hear how the babe was laid in a "mange-ah"), set to commence at 5 pm. My favorite part is the end, when the whole crowd assembles around the creche on the Congregational Church's lawn to sing "Silent Night." Even the most hardened agnostic sings along! Beautiful. Can't wait.
Can't wait to see Leenie and Greg. And the Lamberts! The Rowan!!! I want to read him "Santa Mouse" later!!!
So you and John, with this description, are, I hope, here in spirit....

Ho ho ho: 5 Days To Go!

2008-12-20T10:43:00.000-08:00

Woodsmoke scents the piney air up here on this cold morning; the sun shines brightly, just for today; and where the heavy rains of the past week have left little pools of water on the ground, the light dances on those surfaces – looking like the tiny fairy lights on our Christmas tree. Our friendly neighborhood squirrels are out in force, scurrying along the tops of fences and pouncing to the ground when they spot another fallen acorn.

We await more rain, possibly even snow, as the weekend progresses; I just had an "instant message" from granddaughter Caitlin in Seattle, warning of a blizzard moving into their area: and predictions are for that storm to head right down the California coast to our mountains, by Sunday evening.

I've had a quiet week indoors, as the skies rained down mercy (which, as you know, droppeth as a gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath) – and my shopping, wrapping, packing of boxes and mailing were all finished, a week ago. My war against a bronchial virus kept me lying very low these past few rainy days, wrapped in a warm faux-mink throw and huddled by the fire in the parlor wood stove (I'll take any excuse I can get, to stay lazy and cozy while my dear husband runs about doing the shopping and cooking and bringing me medicine and hot drinks!)

We are so liberally blessed in this home; and my thankful prayers go forth to God this morning especially, with the good news that our Britishers have arrived safely in Boston, bound for Cape Ann and a white Christmas gathering at eldest daughter Teri's home in Gloucester.

So the next five days promise to be as lovely as the past week, with more stormy weather coming to provide permission for further cozy huddling by the fire – and lots of hot tea with honey. Winnie-the-Pooh would love it here, almost as much as I do!

Neighborhood Stories

2008-12-16T11:51:00.000-08:00

This past weekend we had some good neighborhood experiences. On Saturday, the little crowd up in our corner of this country club (Peter, and Teresa/Ted) were out helping our Bracken Brae residents down the road to dig trenches and ditches to divert water from the rains away from their homes. I and John were assigned to provide a lunch for the work crew that day: but they finished early, due to the aforementioned rains which started up unexpectedly early; so we offered a Rain Check lunch for them for Sunday noon instead, after they finished the work.

Meanwhile, I made up a big cauldron of meaty lentil soup and stocked in sandwich rolls and condiments and meats/cheeses – and baked oatmeal-raisin-chocochip-walnut cookies.

On Sunday morning it was raining again, but the brave crew got out and finished their work anyway; and then they showed up at our door. Before they got here, I took a basket with a lunch made up of the soup and sandwich stuff and cookies and drove down to our park Treasurer's house: Lynne is recuperating from hip surgery and was sad to be stuck indoors while others were out working; she's 75 years old, but always digs right along with the rest when she can.

We had a fire going in the living room woodstove, and our Christmas tree lights twinkling, as the cold and wet crew came in; and we all had a jolly couple of hours slurping up the hot soup and other viands and gathering around the fire for cookies and tea. We got to hear a great deal more of neighborhood lore (i.e. gossip) and came to like our new friends even better. We talked about Lynne, and about her friend and neighbor across the street, old Connie: she is the spittin' image of a tough frontier Granny, and was out there digging the ditches with her one good hand (which usually has a cigarette dangling from the fingers) -- her other hand has been injured temporarily, probably in chopping down redwoods or wrangling a bear, or something. But Connie doesn't like to socialize, so she didn't join us, sadly.

Later in the afternoon, we had the house to ourselves, and enjoyed a lovely, quiet evening by the fire, listening to a recording we'd made earlier in the day, of the "Prairie Home Companion" show from NYC this weekend – with guests Met diva Renée Fleming and the great Yo Yo Ma accompanying her on his cello.

On Tuesday morning, after a ripping all-night rain with great peals of thunder rolling down the valley, neighbor Peter came knocking at our door as we were finishing breakfast. "Want to go out and play in the snow?" he inquired. John was up for that, I was not (having a slight throat infection but being extra-cautious). So off the boys went in Peter's four-wheel drive wagon, up a couple of miles on Route 9 and then canting onto a rough road that heads straight up vertically; and they found a couple of inches of depth at the top of the grade. It is not revealed whether they made snowballs and pelted each other, or created snow angels on the white stuff – whatever they did, it must have been a might chilly up there; I was glad to stay home and make chicken soup, myself!

An Advent Meditation: Sunday, December 14

2008-12-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

"It's That Time Of Year...."

My favorite season of the entire year has begun; and I thought it time for me to say why, and to describe how John and I like to celebrate this December time.

The dictionary defines the lower-case "advent" as "a coming into being." That's how I think of this time of honoring of Christ's birth: it is a celebration of The Ground of Being coming into being in our full humanity. To love completely, one must understand as completely as possible, I believe; and Jesus is the embodiment of that love of our God that longed to understand creation by full participation in it, in order to so love us. Jesus certainly did walk many a mile in our moccasins, and that last mile, up the hill toward Calvary, must have required more love than I think I could call up.

Anyway, when we lived in southern Germany, I learned to love many of the customs those jolly Bavarians like to keep around this time of year: lots of candles to brighten the home as the days turn darkest; festive, spicy cookies and other baked goods to scent the air and tickle the palate; hot chocolate around the fireside; and special observances in homes, concert halls, and churches on the four weekends preceding the Big Day.

On Christmas Eve morning, we'll keep our tradition of attending virtual Vespers, the beloved "Carols From Kings College, Cambridge", via the magic of the blessed BBC and NPR airwaves, as we sip hot cocoa by the fire in our PJ's – the easiest and loveliest "church service" you could ever imagine!

And from our Catholic childhood roots, we keep the Advent Wreath tradition. So on the Sunday evenings in December, we have our own private little home liturgy. We take turns lighting the next of the four candles around the evergreen wreath and trade off readings from Scripture or from more modern sources (poetry, thoughtful essays, books about the season's religious or social-justice connotations). It's a beautiful way to help us keep the Sabbath holy – a custom that has gone the way of so many good ones in modern times.

Let me add a bit more about that last comment. For much of the year, we are the first among sinners, if not keeping the Sabbath is a sin; but when we do remind ourselves, as we most often do at this Advent time at least, of how important it is – not for God, but for us, who need the R & R (relaxation and renewal) – we are always grateful to observe the day. When we can manage our time so that we don't have to go out shopping, or do heavy work around the house, or do worry-work on the computer – today, for instance – we find the blessed time for what is really most important about life: visiting with friends, reading, doing a little spiritual journaling, even just sitting and gazing into the fire.

AH, well do I remember all the hysteria of planning, shopping, baking, wrapping, card-sending, and visits to Santa that accompanied us throughout the years when all the children were little; and I know that for young parents, it just isn't very possible to set aside a whole day for peace. Or is it? After all, the truly orthodox Jews keep Sabbath holy, no matter what else is on their daily plates. At least, everyone could try to find some patch of time on Sunday – even for a couple of hours before or after dinner – when the whole household could come to a halt with the Christmas preparations, homework, and chores, and just be together in some comfort. It's worth a try, I think.

We try to have something a little more festive in the way of Sunday dinner during December, too: a fine old-fashioned pot roast, maybe – or as tonight, some baked curried chicken with rice, and roasted cauliflower.

Finally, I am so happy to note that some of our progeny have taken to heart and custom our own efforts to be mindful of all those who don't have the blessings and good fortune that have come our own way. Giving donations to agencies that help the poor; taking time to help feed or clothe the needy in the community; working for peace and justice in many ways; these are the truest and most important gifts of the season.

The older I've gotten, the more I've come to realize that what Francis, the poor and humble man from Assisi, said is really true: it is in giving that we receive. As my grandchildren grow up, I know they will learn this from the example of their parents and will come to integrate it into their lives, enriching not only those to whom they give their time, talents and treasure, but immensely enriching their own lives.

I think that all of life is Waiting; Advent just reminds me more vividly that our hearts were made for God, and will be ever restless until we rest in his eternal love and peace.

Advent 4 - Thursday, December 11

2008-12-11T14:11:00.000-08:00

We bought our six-foot Christmas tree, a Noble Fir indeed, on a frosty evening of full-moon glory yesterday. All the citizens of the village seemed to be in town, shopping or – like us – choosing the important Tree; everyone was "Merry Christmas"-ing one another, laughing and chatting: we felt like we'd lived here all our lives! Our trusty (brawny) volunteer firemen were manning the tree lot; they wrestled the chosen one into our car trunk for us. We drove home and stood it in a corner of the front porch; (I hope it's still there, haven't looked yet, unless the deer, bears, or raccoons have carried it off).

So today, we stay mostly at home, decorating and lighting and such. I did my holiday running-around yesterday – no crowds, just a few cheery shoppers – and the only brief traffic snarl was caused by a flagman on our lovely, curvy Route 9, running interference for the lumberjacks and linemen who are always so busy up here, year-round.

I still have to brave the Boulder Creek post office to send off a couple of packages; goodness, there might be a crowd of five people ahead of me there, I guess.

There's rain and rumors of rain, coming this weekend they say. But we will have finished up all our weather-proofing by the end of this week, so let it pour!

Advent 3: Hospitality of the Season

2008-12-11T13:55:00.000-08:00

We have several "reservations" already, guests planning to come visit during this festive season ahead. The coming weekend will bring Joe, Kathie, and Josh for a pasta supper on Saturday evening; and before that, during the day we are assigned to provide lunch for the Bracken Brae work crew (they dig trenches for the neighbors who are in danger of rainy weather flooding; we feed the ditch-diggers)..... Next weekend, my young friend Janelle, in grad school at Berkeley, will come for an overnight, overdue first visit. On Christmas Day, Julie and the Drysdale crew will come for dinner and festivities around our tree. During the week following, we hope Caitlin will be coming down from the far and frozen North, on her way through a road-trip to California during her school holiday. We're hoping Robert and Marie will find time to come by also, some time during this season. And right after New Year's Day, we plan a small adults-only Wassail Party to celebrate Three Kings Day/Twelfth Night and to bid farewell to the season.

We have a couple or three little outings planned for ourselves, nothing big; mostly we look forward to lovely warm evenings by the fire, with good music and wine and food – and love in abundance.

As for "Keeping The Feast" – we have our Sunday wreath liturgies, as well as services at St. Andrew's lovely little Kirk o'The Woods in the mornings; I'm working on my Meditation for this blog, to come later; and on Christmas Eve morning, we'll keep our tradition of attending virtual Vespers, the beloved "Carols From Kings College, Cambridge", via the magic of the blessed BBC and NPR airwaves, as we sip hot cocoa by the fire in our PJ's – the easiest and loveliest "church service" you could ever imagine!

I'm hoping that as you read these Advent notes here, you may add your own comments about how your holiday season is shaping up!

Advent 2: Wednesday, December 10

2008-12-11T13:50:00.000-08:00

I am rushing about, a bit, trying to catch up with all the usual things that must be done early in this month in preparation for holiday times. Gifting is first; and I spent most of yesterday on that quest; no, not in some noisy Mall, nor driving madly about in traffic; I was on the computer. Much got done, and there's much more to do yet; but it was a good start.

I'm also trying to work the spiritual aspects of the season into my daily life; and I've begun an essay, an Advent Meditation, to put on my blog eventually.

We've just begun decking the halls here: I must pick some of our very own boughs of holly, from the front patio area! This house must be garlanded well, in tribute to our first Christmas in our new home.