On The 4th Day of Christmas ....

..... 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!

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

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

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!

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

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

"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

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

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

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.

Advent 1: Monday, December 8

Yes, if you're a good Roman Catholic, you know that today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception – though I'd be surprised if all you RC's out there know what it means; it used to be the stumper question when I was in Religion classes, back in the day.

Its occurrence every year reminds me of my last day as a Roman citizen (well, not really a citizen, but I did have Permesso di Soggiorno). It was December 7, 1989 – almost 20 years ago, Dios mio! I was wandering and shopping in Il Centro for last-minute Cose Italiane to take home, getting ready to depart for what would be my final return to California the next day. As I strolled down toward my hotel from the Spanish Steps, I passed the Propaganda Fide building and then the statue in honor of Mary Immaculate, on its tall pedestal. She was awaiting the Papal procession and floral tributes to come on the morrow; I nodded politely in her direction, and said a little prayer that I would get out of town before the parade got started; and another little prayer of thanks to God that I was going home, at last.

And now, today, 20 years later, I really am Home, in these dear redwood hills; and another Advent is well begun. I am very content to be staying up here for the the remainder of 2008. The cottage's heart, our parlor-library, is becoming cozier every day, and getting a bit festive. Our Advent wreath is set up on its table in one corner of the room; soon our Christmas Tree will stand in another corner; and we'll be ready to welcome holiday guests.

Last evening, we lit candles and our fire in the little stove; we did our Wreath Liturgy prayer; and then we listened to holiday music while dinner finished cooking. So will our remaining Sunday evenings be kept, until Christmas Eve.

Santa Barbara Glowing

Our southbound trip was a bit odd and fragmented; but this time I really enjoyed Santa Barbara. Well, in its incarnation over the Thanksgiving holiday, who would not? .... the weather was plu-perfect; first a hearty overnight rain on the Tuesday evening we arrived; then a series of sparkling clean-washed and sunny days, right through until Julie and I drove back north on Monday. Our old hometown is at its very best this time of year: and we were graced with the spectacular winter sunsets and sunrises, plus the conjunction just after dark of Jupiter/Venus/New Moon to bejewel the skies even further.

After a rainy, blustery drive down through the Salinas Valley, we arrived safely at Melissa's on Tuesday just after dark, and she had a delicious hot dinner ready for us; we slept deeply.

On the day before Thanksgiving, we woke to a clear, rain-washed sunrise, and hopped out of bed to drink coffee and munch on croissants with butter and strawberry jam (thanks, Poo!). I sat in the big lounge chair looking out at the brilliant red Bougainvillea vine trailing across her neighbor's green hillside, with the mountains beyond, silhouetted against blue sky -- and I remembered why Santa Barbara always looks like a photo on a tourist brochure, or a large-size postcard photo! After breakfast, we headed out and got a lot of SB Chores done: dental appointments, shopping, banking, etc. In the evening, my bro made Spaghetti Carbonara for us for dinner at his place -- our traditional Thanksgiving Eve supper, in tribute to Calvin Trillin (who wishes that the natives of his fictional Caribbean paradise of Santa Prosciutto Island had planned the first Thanksgiving feast).

Thursday morning, before John drove down to Pasadena, we had a Kaffee-Klatsch with our friends Sarah and Steve; and then he departed to "stand in for Marie" who was back in CT with sister Stella for the start of her chemo, and to help oversee the feast "chez Cocks". John's was a male-bonding dinner over a hunk of Roast Beast, with Bob, Mark, and the two nephews (Mikey and Stephen). Meanwhile, I had a quiet day and a traditional turkey with my two sibs -- and went to bed very much too full of food.

Friday morning I met my old friend and mentor, Harriet Burke, for coffee and a small yogurt at Starbucks; and at noon, John drove back up from the south and Julie arrived from Aptos; we snarked turkey sandwiches from Poo's larder, and then John headed on north to Boulder Creek. Julie and I met Nina's plane at SBA and we three were off to the little Hermitage cottage on the grounds of La Casa de Maria, for a religious retreat that couldn't be beat!

It really was a wonderful weekend there; we each had our own little room in the 3-bedroom cottage, and although of course we did a lot of gabbing and giggling and guffawing, we also had lots of quiet times. Nina studied like a scholar (she's preparing for a career shift, from accounting to running a fitness center; and she has to be certified.) I tease her that she's certainly certifiably nuts! Julie slept, and read, and did photography walks. My girls hiked in the mountains on Saturday. And we ate and ate, all that great food that my buddy Theresa cooks up in their fine kitchen. I slept very well, did some writing and reading (in Nina's bible, which she's reading from cover to cover, Old and New Testaments: what an ambitious girl!) We took walks, and rested on the porch, and just had a splendid time. On Sunday morning I borrowed Julie's car and went to church at my beloved Trinity parish; it was delightful to hear that superb choir again and to see and be hugged by a lot of dear friends there.

Nina left on Sunday afternoon, much refreshed. She's got a nice new male friend (HTP, PA, whatever) named Greg; her divorce is final, but she's not making any commitments yet; Greg's an old friend and very supportive pal since a couple of years, works at her golf club. (If Nina marries a Greg, we'll know for sure that she is Leenie's "doppelganger" as we've always thought.)

While we were still together on Sunday afternoon, the three of us drove down a bit south of La Casa, to take a look at the beach house in Mussel Shoals, where the Hornes and the Drysdales will spend Easter Week 2009; it looks like a fine Spring Break for those lucky folks!

Sunday evening, I took my sibs and Julie out for a Thai dinner; and then Ju stayed overnight at her Daddy's house and I slept at Poo's; and us girls drove back up here Monday morning.

I'm very glad to be home in my mountain paradise; but this time the Santa Barbara experience was really wonderful, and I'm glad I went!

Santa Barbara Burning

Thursday night a Santa Ana windstorm struck the Southern California coast: and our beautiful former town was suddenly on fire.  It was sad to watch from up here in the NoCal territory, as blazes sprang up throughout the Southland – but especially hard to observe the conflagration in our American Riviera, where over 100 homes went down in flames.  Some of those were the dwellings of people we know, I fear; but all were incalculable losses for those poor families.  A further heavy blow struck as we discovered that the beautiful hilltop retreat house, Mount Calvary, was razed and utterly destroyed.

These structures will rise again; and no doubt so will the indomitable human spirit that somehow knows instinctively how to regroup and rebuild.  I know too that the old lesson will be written on the hearts and minds of the people who lost so much: no Thing matters, as long as love survives.

.... Time Passes: And Why Not?

.... I love ellipsis in text; my love for them little dots almost matches my passion for the ubiquitous (in my oeuvre, at least) semi-colons and liberally sprinkled parenthetical asides.

Why are these little rows of period punctuation so useful to me? Critics have opined that ellipsis is often used when the writer cannot think of anything interesting to add to an already useless bit of prose. However, as you can see, I like to use this handy little technique at the beginning of a sentence. I suppose it's possible that I employ ellipsis when I can't think what I want to say. Yes, that could be it! Now that I think about the matter, I believe that a nice downhill push from four little dots can really set me rolling – as you can see herewith.

.... However, all digression aside, I do want to update you, reader (and I'm sure there is only one of you – in fact, it may be that I have met the Reader, and it is me, to paraphrase the immortal Walt Kelly).

It's been over a week since I wrote here last; the election of Barack Obama took our collective breaths away, so perhaps that is why I've been derelict in my duty? On the night of November 4, youngest son Jim set up a fantastic chat room for the family, easily accessible and highly amusing and exciting for all of us. It was a joy to share the historic event with my liberal gang.

After that night was over, we've just been getting back on keel here at the Woodland Cottage. We've done some shopping, some reorganizing of the house, some financial work connected with all that.  And I've been reading voraciously – and writing small commentaries on what I've read, sort of mini book reports.  I've been thinking of posting these here, from time to time, just for fun – and maybe to encourage any readers to check out the oldies but goodies on my "great books project" list.

Life is settling into a more organized pattern now, as we ride through this lull between the move-in, the summer and autumn visitors, etc., and the coming holiday season. It's nice to have a log fire going in the parlor on cool evenings, as we listen to all our beloved music CDs that have been packed away for so long. (John found a wonderful wall-mounted display case for the little disks, assembled and mounted it on the wall above our stereo cabinet, and filed all the music in good order.)

November was set aside as our quiet month, and so it has been; we thank God. We also look forward to Thanksgiving "down south" and to the beautiful season of Advent and Christmas ahead.

HISTORY TEST

Shall we be released?
I saw the light come shinin’ this morning, when we awoke to greet Election Day. After a long, long weekend of rain and dark clouds, this Tuesday dawned bright – the light sparkled and glinted off the remaining raindrops as the sun rose higher, over the tops of the redwoods. And we rose, had a coffee and a look at the many clan-mails coming in on our computer terminals, and then dressed in a hurry and headed down to the village fire station to become part of this historic referendum.
I thought of our youngest grandson, Seamus McCune Smith Blau, whose great ancestral namesake was the first black doctor of medicine licensed to practice in New York, so many years ago. Now his parents, and the rest of us, have the privilege of choosing the first black President of the United States; some day perhaps Seamus will be the first Blau President!
But the great hope for our country as we await the election results tonight is that we may be released from the tyranny of the madmen who have plunged this historically Greatest Nation On Earth into near-darkness.
I do not imagine that Barack Obama will be the answer to all the cries of the poor, the hungry, the wounded in war; but the rising up of the American people to vote for Change is a fine thing to observe.
The firehouse crew told us there had not been such a huge turnout for the polls there in Boulder Creek in their memory – and given the apparent age of many of them, that’s a long remembrance.
The test will not be over, if Obama is elected today; it will be just beginning, for him and his chosen band; and it will not be an easy or short road to justice and peace.
But, O God, let us have the opportunity to place our feet on that road, and strive to turn this poor old world around.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Election eve; it's raining cats and dogs as I write this, turning very dark at 5 PM, as Daylight Savings Time is gone for another year. And we wait.

All our hopes are as high as we can push them; but it's still very hard for me to believe that the past terrible eight years of criminal idiocy and governmental tyranny will really come to an end with this historic 2008 election.

I am not a political animal, and I have no way of making any prognostications about how the voting will go tomorrow. All I am able to do, I will do: and that is, pray for our dear country, tonight – and cast my ballot tomorrow.

It happened before in America: Richard Nixon came and went, and we had the Kennedy era for a while. A turn-around is possible, I know. But I also remember what happened after the Camelot days came to a bloody end – terrible and deadly events ensued, tragedies that all but destroyed the hopes and dreams of my youth. I've also lived long enough since then to see how the mistakes and evil decisions that marred the end of the 20th century are still bearing bitter fruit even into the 21st.

Hindsight can make misanthropes of us all; I guess it is only hope, that "thing with feathers" that flies before us into the unknown, that will make me go out tomorrow morning and cast my vote upon the waters once again.

"It was a dark and stormy night ..."

Boo to all of you! Our Halloween really lived up to it's long promised potential. All the old hands had told us that winter begins on October 31st up here; and by gum, it did, this year! The rain began yesterday and continued all night (dampening jack o'lanterns all over NoCal, I fear). We stayed inside, cozy and warm, and had great chili and TexMex Cornbread, and went to bed early. Boulder Creek doesn't get wandering ghouls with edible plunder on their minds; the festivities are usually down on Route 9, when merchants stay open late and hand out free candy to kids – while their guardians buy merchandise, they hope.

So the rains continue; and we shut-ins are enjoying it mightily. I baked cookies this morning (how much cozier could we get?) – Granola/Oatmeal Everything drop cookies, with raisins, nuts and chocolate chips: need I add, they are scrumptious with a cup of green tea, right now!

If the power goes out (and it probably will) we have lots of candles placed around the house in strategic locations; our wood stove is ready to go, and a nice stack of logs plus kindling are nearby. We can activate our oven and stovetop with that old-fashioned implement, the kitchen match; and we have food in the freezer that we can use up in any long-term power outage. To top that off, we have nice wooly sweaters of all sorts, and a new down comforter for the bed (both warm-fuzzies courtesy of Leenie, bless her). We don't have to go anywhere!

I hope you all are enjoying this turning point in the year, with the departure of Daylight Savings Time tonight; we expect to be waking up earlier and going off to sleep earlier in the coming days – and that's just as it should be for winter hibernators.

Looks like we'll have another dark and stormy night tonight; lovely!

A New (Old) Proposition (October 27, 2008)

No, this is not about the election; we've all read enough about the November 4 decisions to last us through the rest of this month.

I have made a proposition to the kids in this family, however, regarding Eileen's "one-year update" message sent over the past weekend. She has asked for help; and it's so very hard to offer anything physically possible, from the great distance across the Big Pond to where she lives in London. I had been mulling over an idea in my mind for a while, and when I saw that Leenie had opened up so vulnerably to all of us about her needs, I decided to put my plan into motion.

I resolved that I would set aside a time each morning, at 9 AM Pacific time, to pray and meditate about the illness and to ask for the mercy of a cure or solution for Leenie. I suggested to the others in the family that we might each "meet in the air" at the same time (in our own time zones) and do this together – to send up a nice loud cry to God in unison. I explained that it had occured to me that this is not a New Age "cosmic convergence" thing, so much as an ancient tradition honored by just about every faith, to set aside specific times for prayer (The Daily Hours of monastic practice, the muezzin's call at appointed times for prayer, etc.)

So this morning, i began my own effort at 9 AM; and I hope that at least some of the other kids have done so, or will later join me in this practice. I don't think we're playing games with God or creating some spiritual climate shift – I only want to try to do something to alleviate Leenie's sometimes lonely struggles with exhaustion, pain, and a host of ugly symptoms that the medical profession is at a loss to alleviate for her.

Later, as I get more feedback from the kids, I'll ask them to let her (or me) know what they are doing, to give her an image to fix in her mind and heart, of her siblings and relatives/friends surrounding her with love. That knowledge alone can be the greatest comfort when you are struggling.

One thing I know about this family: in times of crisis, we do rally around the one in need; Leenie has always been at the forefront of any such efforts, and the others all do what they can in their own individual ways. I expect and hope that it will be true this time too.

(If any of you who are not "the kids" are reading this and want to join in this plan with us, please do; and if you will let me know, I'll add you to any updates I may send out.

Holidays' End

Dear and beloved friends and relatives: it's been wonderful to see the way that those of you who've come up to our woodland home during the past four months have discovered its beauty and peace. Your spirits have mingled with the Spirit of this blessed place; and you are always welcome here again in the future.

Our last set of October visitors, Sarah and Steve, are departing this morning to return to Santa Barbara. It's been a lovely and well graced visit, as we celebrated the great event of Sarah's 70th birthday – a span of three score years and ten upon this earth is a gift to be praised, and the coming of the Third Age (of Wisdom, we hope!) an event to celebrate.

However, we are declaring a small sabbatical, as the year winds down toward our winter season in these hills. We feel the need now for a time of quiet, as we finish out this very eventful year of 2008. There are still a few things we have not quite finished doing to our satisfaction in the house and property; we have not been able as yet to set any sort of pleasing routine to our days and weeks; and frankly, we are in need of some quiet "cocooning" as the days grow short and dwindle down to a precious few – before the holiday season.

We will be in the Southland again for Thanksgiving week; and when we return to our home in early December, we'll be throwing ourselves into the preparations for my favorite season of the entire year – Advent and the Yuletide. The door of this House and Sanctuary will swing wide again to all pilgrims; and for those who relish the idea of winter in the woods, our arms (and the embrace of our home and hearth) will be open to you all.

I wish you a blessed respite of your own, as All Hallows Eve passes into the return of Standard Time in November – to a time of early evening shadows and the lighting of the home and hearth for long quiet nights of peace.

Siblings In Trees

It's been a month for visitors, as I may have predicted earlier; Teri has come and gone, and this past week brought my sister and brother to Merrybrook Lodge for three delightful days. They had come to Boulder Creek with us originally when we moved up here, to help us transport our more sensitive electronics and musical instruments, in early July; and Melissa was up by herself for a couple of days during September. But once pilgrims have experienced our haven in the trees, they seem to long to return!

It was a peaceful, pleasant experience for us, and I hope also for them. One day we gathered up a picnic and drove up Bear Creek Road to a beautifully situated winery, Byington, for a free wine-tasting and a lunch at an overlook with vast views of the inland valley known as "Silicon" – and on the drive up and back there were glimpses of that view and of our own San Lorenzo Valley from either side of the road. Another day we elected to have an "at-home" – and the sibs came up for a homemade soup lunch and a long afternoon on the deck and in shady portions of the back garden. That evening they took us to The Restaurant in our village, Scopazzi's, for a delicious and festive dinner in belated honor of John's October birthday.

I know that my brother and sister were not terribly happy when we opted to move from Santa Barbara to our mountains; but now that they have found this to be a wonderful little getaway for a road trip, I think they are more content with our decision. I know they can understand better why we chose to live in this most beautiful location and in this house – which has quite rapidly become the home I've always wanted and have sought in vain throughout the years, until now.

Yeats At Sunset

I forgot to add a lovely bit that occurred while Teri was here. As the day waned on Monday, and John came out to the deck to join us, Teri was reminded of her Lake Isle of Innisfree images (because peace was dropping slow). She went right in to get my book from the library shelf. (How did she know just where it was? She's a poetry-spotter, an English Major, folks!) She brought it out and read that lovely verse to us; and then we passed the book back and forth, reading aloud our favorites, sipping a little wine, watching the moon and Venus rise in the darkening sky.

Early October Joys

Here's the story / of a gal named Teri / who's been bringing up two very frisky boys
And it's the story/ of a Mom named Franny / who gives parties with a lot o' happy noise ....

Well, anyway: Sunday evening, two carloads of people arrived on our property: the first vehicle held Julie, Bryan and the kids, plus a whole load of food – which Magic Julie had procured for me when my car failed me on Saturday. The second car arrived shortly thereafter, bearing Joe, KB and Josh, as well as Kim – and the long-awaited Teri. "I want my Mommy!" cried this last child, as she ran into my arms.

A grand birthday party supper ensued, with (of course) more food than anyone could eat, lots of oohs and ahhs over the Redwood Cottage by those who had not seen it yet, and more exclamations of pleasure by everyone, since none had seen The Doghouse renovation as yet.

Although T was Tired, after a weekend of "Hardly Strictly Bluegrass" festing at Golden Gate Park, after our guests left we sat up and had herbal tea and talked for a couple of hours in the parlor; and then we sent her off to a stress-busting soak in the big tub, and to the Guest bed (sofa) for a good night's sleep.

Bright but not too early on Monday morning, Teri and John set off on a hike down to the village – to find out what could be done about the car; to have a coffee and bun at "Rainbow's End" and to pick up groceries for dinner at Johnnie's Super. While they were gone, I simmered a pot of homemade soup for lunch (we had good leftovers in our fridge and freezer); and after they returned and we supped, Teri and I repaired to the sunlit back deck.

Us girls had a wonderful, long, lazy almost-six-hour chat there, with a short break for tea and cookies ..... it was the best visit I've had with Daughter No. 1 in many, many years. Teri said no one who knows her will believe that she barely moved from the lounge chair during the whole long session. At one point she commented that perhaps she ought to stroll around our garden and ID some plants; but it never happened that day! John joined us at sunset, bringing out a lovely bottle of Cabernet that Julie had given us, and we chatted as we watched the moon rise, followed closely by Venus (that hussy!)

After a good fresh tomato/basil pasta supper, Teri was off for another bubble bath and early bedtime.

The next morning, our girl took another hike down to the village on her own, to get postcards and snoop around a bit; and then Julie came up in the early afternoon to collect her up. Us three girls went out for a quick lunch at "Jenna Sue's Dessert First" cafe in the village; and then my daughters went off to the seacoast. I hear tell that they had a lovely long walk on the beach at Seascape with the Drysdale Dogs late in that afternoon. And Teri caught her plane for home the next morning.

We miss her terribly; but her spirit now abides with us in this cottage, and will forever.

Our car has returned to us, with new distributor installed; we've had a quiet couple of days; and tomorrow noon, more guests arrive. October is our month for Open House; next week, my siblings will be at Merrybrook Lodge for three days of visiting in the redwoods; and the following weekend, our friends Sarah and Steve will be here to celebrate Sarah's 70th birthday. After that, I think we'll be into real beginning-of-winter, with the return of Standard Time and cooling temperatures and (we pray) lots of rain.

From Country Club ....

.... but not far from it, yesterday afternoon.
We are car-less for the moment. I was heading out of Boulder Creek to go down to the great market in Ben Lomond, yesterday afternoon, when I realized the car's accelerator was not "feeding" gas -- luckily it was (a) not raining; and (b) I was just by a parking slot in front of the last little store group on my right on the way out of town. I was on a slight downhill, also -- so was able to coast into the parking. The third stroke of luck was that I had actually taken my cell phone with me.

I got John to call a towing service, which showed up pretty promptly, especially for a day after a heavy rain; and we dragged the Accord back into the village, to "Mountain Mechanic" – which was closed, of course, on Saturday afternoon. So there is it parked, with its key in the safe-box awaiting Mr. Mountain's arrival on Monday morning. The kind tow-guy gave me a lift up to our mailbox/turnaround space in Bracken Brae. As I walked up the hill to the cottage, I called Julie – catching her just right, shopping in Safeway – and gave her my erstwhile shopping list for the big party ensuing here this evening. Bless her little shopping heart, she is taking care of every last-minute thing I will need.

And here we sit, marooned in the forest. It's a little inconvenient, I suppose, but it could have been much worse than that: I might have been on one of the hairpin turns further down Highway 9, with no pull-off in sight, when the car gave up. That would have tied up the weekend traffic through our valley – if not much worse stuff.

I had all the major things stocked in for the birthday party this evening, and there's always something one can stir up for Saturday supper: in our case, a Penne al'Arabiatta and a green salad. We sat in comfort and listened to Garrison Keillor's first show of the season, had a good meal, and went to bed happy.

This afternoon, Teri and all the Monterey Bay sibs arrive. And Teri will get her wish, on Monday while she's here: we ain't goin' nowhere! She can go for walks with John, read on the deck, eat party leftovers, and talk my ear off (I hope!) Stay tuned as the saga of her visit unfolds.

The Lord Hath Rained Down Mercy

Oh, didn't it rain, children! All night, it did -- we got almost 1-1/2 inches in our mountains, thanks be to God -- and all overnight. We woke to sunshine breaking through in the east, and big scudding clouds scooting on out of here. To step out on the deck with our first coffee and sniff that wet-pine air, was better than any drug. (Of course, just to bring you back to earthen reality, John opened the door, sniffed, and said, "Ah yes, the moldiness!" -- he's so romantic, don't you think?)

Now, the day dawns brighter and brighter as 9 AM approaches; and I'm going out to take some pictures of this blessing.

The Sky Is Falling (Maybe)

Well, chillun, they say it's gonna rain .... our first storm of the season is due Friday night. Of course, that's when Teri is due to arrive in SFO; I don't think it's very nice of her to bring the hurricane weather she's had on her coast out to us. But we do need the precipitation, very desperately; and I have to hope it's the harbinger of a lot more water to come this winter, to fill our reservoirs and get our lovely brooks and creeks running merrily once more.

Meanwhile, we are putting up pictures on walls, at last; baking cookies; and getting ready for the October slate of expected guests. Teri comes first, this Sunday, along with the Monterey Kids, who will be joining us that evening for a birthday celebration for John's 69th. T will stay with us on Monday, to have a whole day of living in the redwood forest; and on Tuesday I'll take her down to have a day at the coast with Julie's and Joe's families, before she returns home on Wednesday.

During October we have a few more pilgrims coming by: and so I hope that our Indian Summer weather will return to us and stay for this month – and then, let Winter come. We will stock our larder, and hunker down in our warm little cottage, and may the skies open and rain down God's goodness!

One Thumb Up, One (F'ing) Down

I had three opinions to go on when we decided to see "Burn After Reading" – The New Yorker critic said it turned him off; my brother said it turned him off, too; Julie – my trusty movie pal – liked it (she saw it with her other movie pal, Nina, who also liked the film.). Since it was a toss-up, we had to try to break the tie. Sorry, friends: we agree with all the reviewers, sort of.

The acting was enjoyable to watch because the actors were obviously having so much fun – especially John Malkovich (as the CIA Man) and Brad Pitt (as The Doofus). The plot was ridiculous; but on the other hand, John felt it wasn't greatly exaggerated as far as the attitude that he guesses prevails at Langley – though he still swears he's never worked for The Company. We can all agree that the F Word was overused, but I believe it's overused in the halls of government too, so that may well be pure accuracy. (My Bro thought its over-usage indicated a lack of creative dialogue on the part of the screenwriters.)

In sum, we sit on the fence e'en yet: it was not "Fargo" (though black, like that film); neither was it funny, like "O Brother" or "Raising Arizona" – I guess I'd say it was neither here nor there, since it has not stayed with me since I left the theatre, as good films will do.

Men In Trees

"They're all lumberjacks / and they're OK" -- or so we hope. At 7:30 AM today, a truckful of guys showed up at our front door with power tools and piton boots and ropes, and with cheery grins. And now they are swinging from branch to branch like our squirrel friends, lopping off limbs like crazy (not their own limbs, I hope; just the ones that might fall on our roof or deck in a winter storm).

The Bossman looks to be a well seasoned guy; his apprentices are of the "hairy-legged youth" variety (our neighbor Peter's appellation for the many young worker-bees we see up here in our woodland territory). They do the climbing, the Boss does the directing, apparently.

I'm fondly reminded of Teri's Yorktown Heights/Bard days, as she swung herself through a prestigious education doing just this sort of work.

It's been truly spectacular Indian Summer weather here in these hills; very warm at midday, very cold at midnight -- with clear, sparkling skies at both ends of the timeframe -- deep blue sunshine days, jewelled starry nights. But we know that winter will come eventually, so the tree work was a priority. Old-timers here tell us that if we get so much as a light dusting of snow (which Souffle would scoffingly call "a little frost") those oak limbs come tumbling down like well struck bowling pins -- and woe to them as might be standing beneath.

In addition to this task, we've also had the wood stove flue cleaned out; John has cut to size and stacked enough seasoned wood to keep us warm all winter (and our trusty gardener has stacked it all away under cover); we've well tested the central heating (it warms the entire house from back to front, in 15 minutes, on a cool morning); and we're about to purchase a generator, ahead of the inevitable power outages we anticipate as soon as a little electrical storm hoves into view.

However, we are told we can count on Indian Summer glory remaining with us for most of October; and we anticipate our full roster of happy guests during that month to come: Teri comes first; then our friends Glenn and Norma Stuck from Trinity/Santa Barbara; the following week, my sibs come for a few days at Merrybrook Lodge and a good visit with us. I believe that will be that, for the season – nobody is anxious to be here after Halloween, when we're promised the very much needed rainstorms (from my mouth to God's ear, I pray). We are greatly, seriously in need of a lot of water from the skies, this year, to allay the drought that has plagued our water systems up here for two years now.

Weekend Guests: or "The Night of the Living Bugs"

This is a tale of pleasure and horror, a comedy/tragedy if you will: it will warm and cheer your heart, chill your bones, and hopefully give you the giggles.
Nina Israel, Julie's best friend, had been invited by us to come away from Las Vegas (the depths) to Boulder Creek (the heights) for a visit with Julie in relatively peaceful, quiet, bucolic simplicity. The girls arrived before supper time yesterday; we had a little wine and some hors d'oeuvres in the Parental Suite; a wonderful shrimp/chicken/vegetable stir-fry dinner provided by John; and a bit of an evening chat over homemade lemon/lavender-sugar cookies and Sleepytime Tea.
Being suitably soporific by then, we began to prepare to go to beddy-bye.
Things began to go rapidly downhill, however, at this point. First, we got out the Aerobed and pump for same – only to discover that the Nicad batteries in the pump had died. John read the instructions aloud: "if the batteries need to be recharged, connect the device to an electrical recharger and leave plugged in for 12 hours." Oh dear. We thought about an all-night poker tournament, but that did not appeal. We considered Charades; nah.
The resourceful girls then created a bedroll on the newly-cleaned carpet in the guest-suite-to-be, for Nina; and Julie settled on the leather sofa in the parlor. Goodnight, all; sleep well!
HAH! No sooner had we turned out all the lights, than the night was pierced by a shrill and horrible sound: a regular Pavarotti of a cricket had invaded our Parental Suite. (John, who falls asleep as soon as head hits pillow, was snoring away -- but that distracting noise was overcome by Luciano's piercing falsetto.) I turned on the bedside lamp and said "Whatinhell is that??" John turned over and said, "What? I don't hear anything," and soon was singing the baritone part of the aria again.
I sneaked out to see if the girls in the upper section of the building could hear anything: They, by this time, were up again and huddled on Nina's floor pallet, whispering away happily (as all PJ-Party girls do once they think their parents are asleep). "Did you hear it?' I squeaked. "Aw, Mom, it's just a cricket," Julie responded. "Why, we've killed a fly and a spider in this room already, in the last 15 minutes!"
"Well, my dears, this makes Three, then," I retorted. "Since you are such brave slayers of bugs, come get your third prey!"
So, armed with a can of hair spray (Nina) and a glass cup (Julie) we stalked back into the big bedroom, turned on all the lights including the floodlights in the high ceiling, and made John get up to help.
But it was our Fearless Fem Duo that prevailed, that night. They spotted this little teeny pale-green cricket in a corner; Nina blasted it with several shots of SuperHold Suave HairGloss (which stunned the critter, as well it might) -- and then as Julie approached with glass cup in hand (to catch-and-release, I suppose) Nina delivered the coup-de-grace by slamming the hairspray can down hard on the victim. "Step back, Julie," she muttered soulfully: "he just committed suicide, because no one appreciated his singing."
At this point, my Big Brave Dog stumbled over with a handful of Kleenex, mopped up the remains of the crime, and dumped the evidence in the wastebasket.
"If I hear any singing coming from that trash-can, I'm going to kill someone!" I shouted. But the evil deed was fully accomplished, well and truly.
..... There may have been more sibilant sounds out in the guest-suite – because I imagine this mild interruption didn't stop the late-night exchange of confidences; if so, I heard nothing more, until 8:30 AM this morning.
Thanks be to God and my Girls!

Open Doghouse 2

As sunset approached on Sunday afternoon (it comes to us early, up in this mountain valley), we celebrated the completion and occupation of John's "Studio" -- aka, for some of us, "The Doghouse". We set up a festal table on his desk, with the Kente-cloth runner our Ghana friends gave us; some candles (including Maria's Lampatka); a silver salver with a little blessed water from Lourdes that a St. Mark's friend gave me many years ago (it doesn't lose potency over time, I believe); an Asperges Bundle -- of rosemary and lavender branches; and of course an Agape of small hors d'oeuvres and sparkling Vouvray wine. In silent prayer, we blessed the interior of the Studio; and then I read a lovely blessing prayer (which I'll print and frame for him to put on one of the walls -- along with Leenie's gift of the "Attenti al cane" plaque she sent from Italy). This is the prayer:
"Bless this Studio, bless the walls / Nothing but blessing here befalls / Bless the candle that stands by itself / Bless the books on every shelf / Bless the chair-back that rests the tired head / Bless the windows: bless this shed! / All who enter here, let them know /Nothing but blessing, before they go / Those who go from here, let them bear / The blessing of hope, where else they fare / Bless the lintel, and every wall / Nothing but good this place befall."

Julie Francesca WoodyAllen

I skipped writing on September 11 -- it’s still a very sad day for me, as for many -- and went down to see “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” with Julie. That was as depressing as watching the endless replay on TV of 9/11/01.

Poor Woody Allen, who knows nothin’ about love (as the song goes) made a valiant attempt to philosophize about the relationship between “It” and Art -- and came up on the shallow end of the pool. But as Julie said: it’s not the film, it’s the going to it with a buddy, that makes the day....

Open Doghouse!

Mark The Builder just presented the bill (aaauuuggghh!) and announced that the erstwhile shed is now completely ready for occupancy as The Studio (or so its soon to be occupant thinks it's called). Pictures of the completed work will be on Kodak's site soon, and on Sunday, September 14, we are going to have a private Open House to inaugurate it (pictures of that will also follow soon). This weekend John will be moving his office appurtenances out there, with the help of our trusty gardener Aurelio and perhaps a buddy of his, to drag things down stairs and around corners.
This milestone will engender the next big effort inside the cottage itself, and this one is mine to do -- with everything out of the Guest Suite except our trusty old leather sofa and one small wooden two-drawer file cabinet, I shall begin with a relatively empty canvas.
As you who have been following this blog-site faithfully will recall, this old bedroom/bath area of the original cottage is to become a combination of a Sanctuary/Retreat for both myself and our pilgrim guests. It's really a one-person-at-a-time space; the bedroom area is long and narrow (approximately 8 feet wide, 16 feet long); and the very small bath beyond it is even narrower and shorter in length. I am both excited and challenged by the task of creating a place of comfort, beauty and peace in this space.

Just Checking

Does anyone read this any more? I'm considering giving up blogging for a while.

I Live in a Redwood Forest

I guess that's a quote from "Obviousman."  

But a couple of days ago, after I'd finished my household chores in the morning, I brewed a cup of green tea and took it out to the back deck; and as I sat there half in shade and half in late-summer sunlight, I gazed up.  And the utter blueness of the sky surrounded in my view by the green-black of evergreen spires made my heart leap.  "I live in a redwood forest!" I exulted.  "I live here!"

The wonder of this fact still can stop me in my tracks -- if I gaze out one of the cottage windows at the symphony of green; as I walk down the narrow track to get the morning mail and newspaper; or when a mountain breeze springs up suddenly and the winey, piney air wafts through the room.

This week, the weather pixies at NOAA are predicting a rather drastic heat spell for our part of the world; we will have a bit of it for the next two days, I guess.  But on Thursday morning we are heading south for a week of visiting in Santa Barbara and Pasadena.  Oddly, the temperaures down there are predicted to be cooler than in northern CA.

I will take my laptop south with me and chronicle this first return visit to our former home-site since the big relocation.  We'll stay with Melissa while we're in Santa Barbara -- and overnight on Friday with Marie in Pasadena, where Stella and family are visiting and a Soule sibling reunion dinner is planned. Labor Day holiday weekend will be spent back in Santa Barbara, seeing old friends and relaxing with my sibs.  A bit of business must done on the big "back to school" Tuesday following the last holiday of summer; and then we've planned to drive slowly back north, stopping in Carmel Valley for a lovely finale to our one week of vacation this year.

And yes: we will be glad at last to return to our mountain greenery on September 5 -- to take up the settling-in process again.  The Studio/Shed should be finished and ready for John to move in (our intrepid Mark plans to work through to completion while we are gone).  When all of John's office stuff is out of the main house, I will begin to make my Retreat Suite.

Stay tuned for reports from the Road Trip, starting Thursday  (But first:  tune into next-President Obama's speech on Thursday evening!)

Whoo-eee!

Well, I'm just happy that my I-Net connection is working so well this morning!  So I'll take time by the forelock, as they used to say in Louisa Alcott's day, and catch my Faithful Readers up on our past week.

The "Studio" is progressing very rapidly toward completion; if I knew how to upload pictures to this blog you could see for yourself.  Suffice it to say that by the start of Labor Day Weekend (which is creeping up on us, buddies) the full flooring and wallboards should be installed, and painting begun.  John goes out there every day and remeasures and draws diagrams (who knew?) -- and yesterday he took a chair out (after the workers had departed) and tried various locations to the purpose of deciding where his easy chair might best be placed for the best views out the two windows.  It must be like childhood revisited: building a treehouse!

So everyone's going off somewhere for the holiday weekend aforementioned.  The builders are taking a family trip; Julie and her gang are going over to the East Bay for Danny D's little league baseball season finale.  And we are going south.  We will drive down to Santa Barbara on Thursday next, to stay with Poo.  On Friday we head on further south to Pasadena, where a Soule R/U is planned for that evening (Stella, Eric and Louise are visiting Marie; James gets back to the USA from Singapore or wherever he's been this summer, stopping in LA before returning to grad school: and a Stella-visit always engenders a family gathering.  Leeessaaah and her entourage will come to Pasadena too.  Bob is making red beans and rice) ..... We'll return to S.B. for the holiday weekend, with a chance to visit with old friends and attend Trinity's Sunday services.  On the Tuesday everyone goes back to work or school, we will fit in some dental appointments and other business in S.B.; and then we're heading back north, stopping in Carmel Valley for a bit of quiet R & R before returning to our mountains on Friday, September 5.  We are hoping the shed will be completely ready by then, as the contractors will finish it up on their return from the long weekend holiday.

This has been a quiet, domestic sort of week (I baked a fabulous stuffed manicotti casserole for dinner plus three batches of cookies, yesterday (the latter a volunteer project for the church bake sale this weekend -- with leftovers for our own cookie jar, of course).  I had a girls' outing with Julie and Stef on Wednesday -- we went to a matinee of "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants II" and had lunch at Malone's Grill (yummy).  

Today is John's and my "Grand Day Out" -- we try to do this once a week -- this time we're off to explore the Loch Lomond Rec Area with its reservoir and the Trout Farm Inn on the river -- a part of this valley we've not seen yet.

Well, that blast ought to hold youse, for a while .... and if my I-Net holds up I'll be back latah, dahlings.

Mountain BBQ

Yay!  Joe and Kathie and Josh came up on Saturday afternoon, and we "christened" (with fire) the gas grill that they gave us for a housewarming gift.  I had bought big sirloin steaks, and made a pot of Santa Maria Beans; we had a couple of fine little salad sides to accompany the meal and plenty of local bakery Francese bread (which makes wonderful leftovers sandwiches, too, as we found out this noon!)  They brought a lovely bottle of Merlot from Santa Ynez Valley, to accompany the meal, and we finished it off with fresh peach ice cream.  (There you go, foodies.)  It was a lovely, balmy full-moon evening, and we had a great time helping Josh fly his old-fashioned balsa-wood airplane that Grandpa John got for him.  I could not conquer the "add image" process on this blogger -- it was taking over an hour to upload -- so instead I infested your inboxes with jpegs -- but at least you got photos somehow.  (Jimma, I hope you enjoyed the Weisse-Blau picnic tablecloth!)

Sunday morning we went to church, did a bit of shopping, and then stopped at Scopazzi's for a late lunch on their verandah, to celebrate the fact that John's gout is much improved.

Everywhere we go in this valley, we run into people we know: at K-Mart after church, our closest neighbors, Teresa and Ted, chatted with us for a while; at Scopazzi's, the Bracken Brae treasurer, dear Lynn Newsome, was lunching with friends and waved us over to meet them.... I love village life!

Mark The Builder.....

..... arrived at 10 AM sharp yesterday, with Tall Del, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, in tow; and the interior of the Studio/Doghouse is pretty much demolished.  This is so exciting!  I took pictures before they started, and more after they left, to show the progress; I'll send a few by e-mail (now known as the "old-fashioned method" -- ye gods) and will continue to try to master uploading to this Blogger post, later.

 

As you can see if you've followed this chronicle to the letter, our life in the mountain forest is still very happy.  We figure it will take us a full year before the cottage is past its re-birthing phase -- and here's how I've divided it up, in my planning.

I see the first four months, summer into autumn, as the initial "Moving In" -- and getting John's studio operative is a big part of that effort (we love Mark The Builder -- he's the happiest person I think I've ever met).  

The winter segment of this first year will be for Hibernation, and while we're more confined to the indoors, we will be spending a lot of time in the Library/Parlor, the interior heart of the place.  It is comfortable enough for now -- but as we sit by the little wood-stove fire and dream, we'll be designing the interior and planning for what needs to be done to complete it -- as well as the garden -- come Spring.

During these first two phases, I'll also be designing and executing my Retreat -- the small suite off of the parlor, my Room Of One's Own -- which will also be a private retreat area for any pilgrim who may wander by in need of rest and quiet beauty.  When a guest is in residence, I plan that this cottage shall be a true Pilgrim's Inn, and I will happily serve as the Mistress of the House, to make the retreat visit as lovely for our guest as possible.

And in the Spring, we will hope to complete the whole process, bringing our winter daydreams for the interior rooms, the Master Suite, and the gardens, into full bloom.

All of this Dream Come True is such a joy to us; and those of you who are responsible for that will be in our grateful hearts and in our prayers forever.

Bowser de Medici Commissions A Palace

Since Teri suggests that Lorenzo the Magnificent, who also suffered from gout, was big on commissioning grand schemes whilst resting his toe on a velvet pillow -- John is following suit by OK'ing the renovation of the backyard shed.  Our friendly, ever cheerful Mark The Builder will be starting work on Monday morning.  He will strip the building of its lowered ceiling loft and the unnecessary built-ins; replace the rotting floor and wallboards (installing insulation where/if needed); add an insulated door; and paint as required.  Probably there are a few other little things he has promised to do to it.  But he gave us a fixed-price estimate, and promises to have the work completed by Labor Day weekend.  John is adamant that it will not be designated as The Doghouse, however much I would love it.  Right now he is liking "The Studio," which is better, to my mind, than "The Outhouse" -- his original concept.  Whatever.  It's his palace and he can call it Pitti, or Grande, or whatever he likes, and decorate it with all the electronics and wires and weird posters and beat-up old metal file cabinets he may choose.

Meanwhile, Mrs. deMedici plans to get all his "shit" (thank you, Marie!) out of the guest room ASAP (i.e. in early September) and then will have total control over the planning and execution of that Retreat -- it shall be a sort of monastery guest-room for pilgrims when they wander by, but is to be for me, at long last, "a room of one's own."

Meanwhile, for you Anglophiles, Roman Catholics, and movie buffs out there in blogland, we can recommend the new version of "Brideshead Revisited."  I loaded Gouty One into the Honda sedan chair and transported him down the hill to see this gorgeous film at the Santa Cruz Palazzo de Art-Films on Thursday afternoon.  It was a fair treat for the eyes, quite decent acting -- and the screenplay was by Leenie's script guy, Andrew Davies.  Check it out.

La la, how the life goes on!

"I want my Orange Curacao!"

That personally famous line from the Masterpiece Theater version of "The Pallisers" echoes in my mind as I write here that John seems to be undergoing a small attack of The Gout.  (The dying scion of the Palliser clan was a gouty old goat who was demanding something gouty old goats can't have -- since he was dying, it seemed very cruel to deny him, IMHO.)  Anyway, rest assured that John is NOT dying; but his big toe on the left foot is very swollen and sore.  He's done his I-net research and is keeping his foot elevated as much as possible -- looks a little silly hopping around with one leg in the air, but c'est la vie.)  We are now relegated to eating vegetables and a lot of stuff with no interesting seasonings -- and worst of all, no glorious late-summer fresh fruits, which we were gorging ourselves on when we first got up here: golden raspberries, ripe melon, magnificently sweet peaches, etc etc.  I went down to the farmers' market yesterday and bought a ton of veggies, but had to be content with sampling all the fruit on my own.  (Their Kettle Korn ain't too bad, neither!)

Bright Days/Dark Nights: French Film

On Thursday I drove down to Santa Cruz to meet Julie for a Girls' Afternoon; we browsed on Crazy Street (Pacific Avenue is a nuthouse scene with great shops); had a retro hamburger-and-shake at Jack's shack; and saw the terrific French thriller, "Tell No One" at a very retro little theatre, the Nickelodeon -- they serve decadent cake squares and cappuccino in the lobby stand. (I'll tell everyone: the film is very dark, but a winner; I just had to remind myself now and then that outside in lovely S.C. the sun was shining brightly and everyone was very laid-back!)  No kidding, though, kids: don't miss this prize-winning film!

The drive back up through the redwoods on Highway 9 put me in a fine sunny mood again; but when I got home and was fixin' to fix dinner, the electricity went down again -- second time in one week.  However, we put our Italian Boot Camp experience to good use: out came the candles and battery-powered lantern; a butane one-burner stove was set up on the front porch; and we cooked up some great ravioli I had in the freezer (gorgonzola/artichoke/walnut filling), in a pot of free-range chicken broth I'd just snarked at New Leaf Market on my way home; and we feasted by candlelight.  Set the dishes in the sink, took a couple of candles to the bathroom to wash up, and we were off to bed in the (really) dark forest.

All was light, in the morning: we'd envisioned toddling on down to Rainbow's End for hot coffee, but we were again all-electric.  This is the problem up here; even the bathwater is heated by P G & E -- oy.  So Joe and KathieB, if you're reading this, better keep the spare bedroom made up, because we may be visiting grandparents more often than you'd appreciate, come the bad weather up here!

So yesterday, in our ongoing quest to prize out every great lunch emporium in the area, we drove over to Scotts Valley at noon, to Malone's Grande Grille -- and it is truly fine.  We sat on a pretty shaded deck and I had cream-of-green-chile chowder with a prime-rib French Dip sandwich; John had Spinach Salad with grilled skirt steak strips; and we were happy in the sunshine.  We went to the Big K-Mart over there in commercial-land, and got a sale bargain on a gas BBQ grill; we need to be able to cook more than pasta/soup when power is out (and thanks to Joe and KB, we now will be able to do that! Bless you, kids!)

So, the weekend is here, and so are we -- been through the light and the dark side of mountain living, and surviving very well indeed!

Aunt Poo Comes To Visit

Hooray, we have our first houseguest!  Aunt Poo (my little sis, Melissa) drove up yesterday and is spending today and tonight here before returning to Santa Barbara on Wednesday.  It's very lovely to have her here; our little guest room is also John's office at present, but we cleared away the packing boxes that were resting on the old leather sofa, put out the big puff-quilt and a pillow or two, and she's squeezed in there between John's desk and a bookshelf.  But it seems quite adequate for her.  I'm happy to report that Poo has gotten right with the "program" up here -- sleeping deeply and well, eating Frannie-foods, reading in the sun on the back deck, and taking walks around the forest trails.  This is just the sort of peace that I envisioned and hoped for a guest to find, in our "mountain retreat" site -- and she really seems to enjoy the quiet, slow pace, the fresh air, and the major pastime available up here: gazing out at the redwoods and the distant hills.

We're going to leave her to relax this afternoon while we run down to the local farmers' market for fresh fruits and veggies (and some fresh-popped Kettle Korn) ..... we'll bring back for her a little cake to have with tea on the deck.

I hope life is as good for all of you who read this, as it is for happy me.

Praise

Life has been fairly routine here, since I last blogged 6 days ago -- (has it really been that long? I guess.)  So what does "routine" mean, in my life now?

At night I often wake a couple of times to gaze at the myriad stars and planets cruising across our patch of sky between the trees; going back to sleep, I praise God for such glory.

This morning we woke just before the sun came over the tips of the redwoods; John started the coffee while I looked at my new emails.  Then I realized I'd not posted a new blog for a long few days, and so here I am.

So last Saturday, Julie came up for the annual picnic at Bracken Brae, bringing pasta salad, guacamole and chips to contribute -- and also bringing Danny D. (who made the guac) and his friend Kassandra, who made and brought me a Dragon's Egg. Kass is great, very intelligent and polite; we really like her, we think.  She makes the eggs out of different colors and shades of clay, and bakes them in an oven; and they are just beautiful.  Each one has a "charm" attached to it, so to speak; there's a handwritten little scroll about it, included in the colored mesh bag that holds the egg, and also a matching handmade bracelet.  My charmed egg was for Friendship; I put it right in my pocket, to bring me new friends, and put on the bracelet -- and off we went to the community BBQ.  I took my Italian potato salad; everyone brought something, and the Committee grilled burgers and hot dogs and provided the accoutrements thereof; and the irrepressible Peter, still a bit jetlagged but game, went out and bought a kids' wading pool and filled it with about enough ice to sink the Titanic, and a great deal of beer, soda, and wine. It was a great time had by all, with some little kids and some codgers like us, and everything in between -- about 25-30 people, and I liked them all.

Sunday and Monday were stay-at-home days; Tuesday was Market Day in downtown Felton, about 6 miles south, and we went down to check it out.  Great food stands abounded (Indian, Mexican, kettle corn, spiced nuts) -- and wonderful fresh produce.  We loaded up -- the white peaches were superb, folks!

Wednesday and (so far, Thursday) have just been organizing days; our offices are up and running well, the kitchen is really almost done -- filing the spices away this morning was exhausting, I think we have too many, maybe?

And throughout all six days, the weather has been salubrious; cool, even chilly, at night, very fresh and bright every morning, warm and breezy during the day -- and cooling down slowly at eventide, as we sit on our redwood deck and toast another beautiful day gone by.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Cruz-in'

Friday off: 

every moving person has to have a free day, and this was it for us.  We drove down from the hills to the sea, and spent an afternoon in Santa Cruz, hippie capital of the world.  After much cruising around, trying to find the lunch bistro that Julie had highly recommended, we finally found a good parking place right across the street from "Cafe Limelight" -- the best doggone dog-friendly bistro I've encountered.  It's small and cute, and the little patio is filled with people towing dogs or children or both, but all well behaved, thank God.  We had a superb hummus appetizer designed by Farouk (who was also our waiter); and we split a panino/salad plate and a bottle of 'Flying Dog' ale.  Although dessert was superfluous, it was superb: again, we split a tall dessert glass filled with espresso, vanilla ice cream, and a bit of whipped cream on top, called "Affogatto" (I call it "Heaven and Hell" -- it's hot and icy-cold at the same time, and simply delicious).

After dawdling on the breezy, sunny patio, we had no time to go to see the film we'd thought to try, "Mamma Mia;" so we drove around and around again trying to find stores we wanted to check out; that's tiring, folks.  So we hit Trader Joe's for a stock-up shopping and then headed thankfully back up the mountain.  East or west, home is best, as they say.

Jan and Peter, in one day (Thurs., July 24)

At noon we picked up Ms. Realtor Jan O'Neill,  of the County Kerry O'Neill's, and drove down to meet Julie for an our-treat lunch at a small Italian bistro in Scotts Valley, "In Vino Veritas."  We didn't have any vino, but we had some nice pasta and a delicious baby-beet and egg salad (better than it sounds).  Jan and Julie have done so much, together and separately, to facilitate our moving-in up here, and they enjoy each other's company a lot.

In the evening while we were fixing our supper just after dark, a weird apparition came into view outside our new kitchen window: a ghostly figure, waving cheerily.  "John!" I yelled, "there's something out there trying to get in!"  Brave husband went to the front door, and lo: it was Peter the Hermit, home already from Merrie England and stopping over to say "I'm baaack."  After just a bit over a week, he'd had enough -- "It's 40 pence to the dollar there, dammit!" he moaned, and "Worst mistake I've ever made in my life!" he groaned (frankly, I doubt that, from the look of him).

But his mistake is our gain; we're delighted to have him back.  Little Ashley was having a bit too much of a good time in Daddy's cottage after he left, and we were a bit worried that things would be getting louder and louder as summer wore on (you know how kids are when the parents are away, I assume?)  That worry is now over; and Peter, who gave me the Clavinova piano before he left, you'll remember, is a great neighbor -- and I think he'll become a very good friend.

Going To Town (Tues., July 22)

Alas, there comes a time in every NoCal resident's life when it is necessary to descend to Silicon Valley to worship at the shrine of Fry's Temple of Doom; this was our day.

We started out in good cheer, as the sun was lighting the treetops; on the way down through Bracken Brae's trails and vales, we passed a denizen of the woods who was walking her dog -- and her bird, in a cage strapped to her back (Bird Dog Walk, I guess).

We assailed the tortuously winding Bear Creek Road route to the Valley, and came dizzyingly down into Los Gatos -- the other Capital of Cute, sister city to Capitola on the Coast, I guess -- where we repaired to The Great Bear Coffee House for a shot of courage to face the day (cappuccino, that is).

Our first foray was to a mall in the area that had the biggest damn' Target Store I've ever seen; I was too overwhelmed to buy anything but a couple of boxes of Kleenex, but John bravely purchased a few things we needed.  Then it was on to the glorious Bed, Bath, and Beyond store, a few paces further along our road -- I could probably lose all of our fortune in a place like that, but we restrained ourselves to a few necessities.  (Leenie, I'm going to use your gift certificate there for a real duvet before winter strikes our hills.)  

At last, we reached the goal of the pilgrimage:  Fry's Electronics, the Church of the Silicon.  If it looks like an Egyptian temple on the outside -- and it does -- the theme is carried through with verve as you ride up the outdoor people-mover and into the darkened entryway, where spiffy uniformed  and well-informed lackeys await your every question.  I don't need to tell you that John really worshipped well there -- and on the way out, we passed a huge (plastic) statue of the Pharaoh Dog -- seriously, he was canine of features and all golden -- but not a Retriever, I thought -- unless he was meant to symbolize the retrieval of our funds into his vault.

Sated and pooped, we headed home, up out of the Valley of the Mammon and back to our etherial mountain aerie, thanking our Creator for bringing us safely back to Heaven.

A Day With My Baby Daughter

(Don't sniff, Julie dear; I can still remember you toddling about the yard on Pintura Drive, clutching your stuffed rabbit, your little ponytail bobbing and your laugh ringing; sorry, kid!)

So Julie came up to the mountains yesterday morning, bringing Farm Market treasures (blackberries to die for, oh yum!) and we had coffee and cinnamon loaf, and took a lot of photos of our work-in-progress here at the cottage -- and for Teri, lots of horticultural shots which I will leave her to label for us.  It was a glorious, bright day, with a cool breeze; and we girls went to lunch at Rocky's Cafe, one of the many little munch-out spots tucked away under the redwoods up here, before she returned to foggy Seascape.

This may not sound like a big deal to you, dear readers: but all I can say is that it was, for me. The sheer luxury of having leisure time to spend with one of my beloved kids is so far the Number One benefit of being retired at last.

from Country Club to Cathedral

This morning at 9 AM we walked down a trail to a lovely picnic grove, where the Bracken Brae organization holds its community meetings.  This one was called to discuss the advisability of installing water meters -- presumably to monitor water leaks in the lines, but we suspect it is really to start charging each homeowner for water based on actual usage -- and perhaps even to link our area up to the San Lorenzo Valley water system, as drought continues to ravage our private water supplies here.  I'd hate to see that latter thing happen, as the water here now is ambrosial and the "city" water is just OK -- anything's better than Goleta water, of course.

Anyway, the various discussions ensued with good will, and we really liked the neighbors -- they are of a sort you can imagine meeting at a town-hall gathering in pioneer days; strong, enthusiastic and intelligent pioneers of the redwood forest, in sum.  I'm glad they are so fine, as we all depend on one another up here for emergencies small and large, and we have to be able to cooperate.  There was a lot of discussion about the necessity to maintain the cohesiveness and rapport that has always been part of living in B.B. -- there was some fear that individual meters might create individuality!  But I don't see that being a problem.

Anyway, when the discussion got too much for me, I just sat back on the picnic bench and watched everyone to see how the interactions were, and looked up, up, up into the spires of the redwoods and thought, "I've never been to a community meeting in a cathedral before!  This is glorious!"

I came home and baked a bunch of chocolate-chip-oatmeal cookies for all of them: they went off to do some minor repairs about the property, and John took the cookies down to the grove and joined the workers at their planned lunch, and is now off helping dig a water trench or something.

Retail Therapy 2 (July 18, 2008)

Before I get to the retail part, let me remind you all that it will be very good therapy for all of us to get outside this evening just at dark, and have a look at the Full Moon!  (howwwl!)

So yesterday we did two kinds of shopping, one hated and the other loved.  First the bad part: we had to stock up on some boring household necessities like nails and pails at Ace Hardware, and tiskets, taskets and wastebaskets at K-Mart.  This chore was eased mightily by a fine outdoor patio lunch at a little Heavenly Cafe on the road to the shopping center.

But after lunch, we went to our local antiques/used-stuff store, and this part I loved!  I found a Perfect Chair for my Victorian escritoire -- a copy of a 19th century style that matches the desk almost exactly but is much sturdier than a real Victorian piece could be by now.  It's got lovely silvery-green patterned upholstery on the back and seat, in very good condition -- and the sight of desk and chair sitting near the French doors leading out to our back deck makes me just long to sit down and write a modern Jane Austen novel.....  We also found a fine small dropleaf table that will be just right in our breakfast area of the big kitchen; now just need two chairs for it; and for $1.00 each, I completed our happy shopping experience with two lovely floral-printed bone-china tea mugs.

Yes: it's time for "elevenses" -- and I'm going to make some tea now and get John to stop building the two new bookcases -- workers must rest!

Old Deutsch Cleanser

Most of you are too young to remember Old Dutch Cleanser, the scouring-powder that was popular in my mother's day -- but I thought of it, as I tackled my first housecleaning day, with my little Bavarian apron on and my Putz-Traeger (cleaning caddy, kids) in hand.  Yikes!  I haven't cleaned house in too many years, I guess: I'd forgotten how tired a little Putz-Frau can get.  Well, the place was scoured out thoroughly before we moved in, by Realtor Jan's daughter, so it really wasn't too dirty -- except the stuff the movers tracked in as they unloaded the truck.

I actually enjoyed using Murphy's Oil Soap and giving my lovely old Victorian escritoire a good going-over, such as it has not had in many a long year; that kind of work is very satisfying.

But I'm thinkin' -- my next cleaning job will be to call a local lead on a housecleaner gal and sign her up! 

Anyway, after a nice German lunch of lentil soup from the local "New Leaf" health-food market, I collapsed on the freshly made-up bed and had a nice nap; feelin' pretty good now (but dinner will be quite elementary this evening).  

So, another beautiful day passes.

Allons, Enfants, #2 (Monday, July 14)

Joe came up last evening and we went for a pasta feed at Scopazzi's, down the road; and it was too rich for my blood -- I didn't sleep well at all last night.  But every light needs a dark to stick it in, as Arlo hath said.  And in the dark, the most beautiful moon (almost full) arose and wandered across our night skyview beyond our windowed bedroom; and when the moon went over the distant mountain, Jupiter arose and followed her.  This is a wakeful night to be thankful for.

In fact, all of life is a blessing for which I am extremely grateful.  So I'll just leave you for now with my favorite morning meditation-prayer, which I'd like to share with all of you:

-------

I arise today

In the name of Silence

Womb of the Word;

In the name of Stillness

Home of Belonging,

In the name of the Solitude

Of the Soul and the Earth.

I arise today

Blessed by all things,

Wings of breath,

Delight of eyes,

Wonder of whisper,

Intimacy of touch,

Eternity of soul,

Urgency of thought,

Miracle of health,

Embrace of God.

May I live this day

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word,

Gracious in awareness,

Courageous in thought,

Generous in love.

Gifts From Above (Sunday, July 13)

In another spate of serendipity, I received the most wonderful gift, today.  

Let me tell you about our nearest neighbor, who has lived just across the little easement roadway from our cottage for many years.  Peter had a reputation as somewhat of a recluse, living behind an old bamboo-screen fence in a very run-down and ramshackle shack that was once a bunkhouse for the logging workers, in the bad old logging days in these hills.  But just before we moved up here, Peter's father in England died, leaving the former Hermit Guy a castle in the south of Britain and a veritable fortune!  Our neighbor, who used to crew on nuclear subs ("boomers" as John calls them), has always dreamed of taking his old sailboat to the paternal homeland and messing about in boats on the waterways there; now, he could.  But first, he decided to renovate his old shack completely, inside and out, for his 20-something daughter Ashley to live in and caretake for him; and when he's finished, we will have a very nice housing addition to this neighborhood.....  Peter leaves for his big adventure at the end of this month -- and he's feeling very flush, apparently; because he came over today to chat for a bit, and saw our little electronic piano -- and asked if we'd like another one.  Well: it's his dad's Clavinova, a beautiful wood-encased older model with a leather-topped wood bench.  Yes, we would like to have it, very much indeed, thank you!  

Pianos dropping from the trees:  who knew????!!!!

Retail Therapy (Thurs., July 10)

We went to the city today:  no, not SF -- Capitola/Santa Cruz.  They got a Mall there, folks!  We bought a washer/dryer set at Best Buy; did a bit of obligatory Trader Joe's stock-up; had a lovely lunch courtesy of Julie, who joined us with Steffie at noon; and stopped on our way home at a fine SF market called Nob Hill, to get some provender to replenish our larder.  It was quite hot, and we were glad to get home to a cool shower and a rest on our shady deck at sunset.

I am feeling a loss of control of our household operations and finances; we really need to get wired up here and set up useable office space, soon.  

But we are also trying very hard not to push ourselves or let ourselves be pushed -- the six weeks or so when the heat wave was so intense in SB, and we were getting packed up and handling all the administration of moving from our long-term base, were really very wearing for both of us; I didn't feel like I was retired, until we got up here.

Connections (Tues., July 8)

Like the Giove/Boulder Creek connection I hit on a few days ago, I keep seeing more things about this cottage and garden that remind me of other loved places.  When Melissa and Frank were here, she pointed out that there is a lot of our mother here -- lots of iris, which she loved, are planted everywhere around; and the gardens are basically pretty much rock-gardens, which Mom also loved, and built in our yard in Michigan.

Yesterday, I made a connection with a great laundromat in the village: it has free wi-fi, coffee and popcorn, and a collection of characters right out of the old cracker-barrel live-chat days, who hang out there. I was able to do a bit of live-chat with my Leenie, and with Frankie -- but my time online is very limited.  Can't wait to get wired up at home.  It's nice to come into the village for a bit, but to tell the truth, I hate leaving our little forest clearing for very long; I'm so content to be there!

Sunday Morning Gardener (July 6)

As you all know, we are not gardeners.  But I had a lovely experience, this morning, as we watered the property before going to church.  John did the back garden areas; and I took on the front patio and surrounding plantings.  As the sun was just coming through the pine spires of this cathedral forest, and I was wetting down the lovely flower and herbal plantings around the rock gardens and ledges, I remembered the old bit of poetry my mother loved: "The kiss of the sun for pardon/the song of the birds for mirth/we are nearer God's heart in a garden/than anywhere else on earth."

I Have A Dream, Explained

Leenie thought that perhaps my dream, mentioned in an earlier post, might have something to do with a RU in Boulder Creek: don't panic, Lee, it ain't so.

My dream (our dream, actually, for we see eye to eye on it) is this:

• to instill an atmosphere of light, space, and serenity in this corner of the world;

• to build in private areas for each of us, where we can have a modicum of solitude; and working together, to make our common areas beautiful and restful, as well as useful for us;

• to establish a "pilgrims' inn" of sorts, or a retreat house if you like -- where, during our occupation, we can offer a place for anyone who is weary of the world below to come and rest in quiet peace for a time;

• to create a legacy for our children and grandchildren for the future -- when we are bound for glory (or whatever), we'd like to leave a place that will be available to all of you when you need surcease from your labors.

I'd like to say more about the last two points, in the next post.

Sunday Meditation

Over coffee at dawn, we talked about our different approaches to seeing spaces.  John presented this dichotomy:  he is a top-down, whole-picture kinda guy; I focus on minutae.  His analogy, as ever, was apt:  he walks into a certain room, sees a yellow cup on a table, and sees the room in a certain way; if later the cup is removed, he will enter the room and see it in a slightly different way.  I can walk into a room, and there could be a yellow elephant standing in one corner -- but I might only see that I like the color of the curtain on one window.  (One of my former bosses, Ruben Patino, used to call this the Fran Syndrome; he knew it well.)

So when John wants to get the book boxes unpacked right away, because they fill one wall of what will be the Library eventually -- I don't understand; I just don't see the boxes, if I'm looking for a scissors I may need at the moment.

Neither of us like clutter, but John dislikes it more intensely than I do.  We both long to create an atmosphere of serenity in this house, but I'm willing to do it slowly.  John is trying to be patient, though, and I give him great credit for that.