Summer's End

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

WHAT'S THE BUZZ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poop

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

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

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

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

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

(The Treehugger's Blues)

Sunday In The Park: Part 2

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

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

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

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

Sunday In The Park: Part I

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

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

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

AUGUST PASTORALE #1

Saturday, August 1:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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