The lake — a bowl of glitter!
Winds whisper to water,
waves murmur replies.
A crow flies, snail snared
in its beak.
—–

Rooster crows, broom sweeps.
A car growls to life.
Helicopters thump the sky.
Pigeon wings slap air.
Sirens keen, dogs bark.
Zazen in L.A.
—–

My food – Advil.
My nectar – water.
My balm – sleep.
—–

Now the cushion
Now the breath
Now the work.
Samadhi does not
come in a box or book.
It cannot be imagined
or conjured.
Bells, incense, bows, chants
bring dignity and form
to the formless.
But above all,
it is about the work.
Breath.
Samadhi.
—–

Cresting the mountain,
valley a blanket spread low;
slices of miles served -
feast towards home.

A small stone for today.

“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”

–A.A. Milne

What do you do on a restless Monday afternoon? You drive to Chesbro Reservoir to throw sticks and leaves in the water and watch them float away, pushed by the breeze. You gather more driftwood to expand your fairy land. You stand at the edge of the road and say hello to a few cows. (If the embedded video doesn’t show/work, here is a link to the movie.)

You make a silly face to try to get them to moo.

On the way home, you stop at Spina Farms produce stand to buy fresh green beans and corn on the cob for dinner. You tell the lady at the counter all about the cows and how they were having quiet time. Then you head home, unload all the treasures, and make a fairy meeting room. (If the embedded video doesn’t show/work, here is a link to the movie.)

And you situate your gathered wood, ferns, and grasses just so.

After all this, you eat five slices of whole wheat bread slathered heavily with real butter and a few green beans for dinner, followed by a brownie for dessert. Then you take a bath, listen to a story, and say farewell to the day.

Yesterday we went for a hike at Uvas Canyon County Park. Her empathy is blooming, and it’s heartwarming to observe. We saw a sign pointing out poison sumac, and as we walked away Claire blew it a kiss. I asked her why, and she said she was going to blow kisses to all poisonous trees to be friendly. And later we saw a sign explaining that rattlesnakes live in the area, that they are an important part of the community, and to be cautious. Claire thought the drawing of the snake looked sad, and she wanted him not to be lonely. Nevertheless, I assured her, the snake likes to have alone time, and we need to respect the woods by not wandering off the path or putting our hands into places we can’t see into.

When we started our hike, first we explored the bark of a madrone tree:

We passed a tree with an interesting sign. We were unable to see the bees, but we saw a spot on the trunk high up where a large limb had broken and left a big gap, and we guessed the bees might be there.

Daddy pointed out the roots on this tree. How often to you get to see what a tree looks like underground? Claire found the roots a little scary and also said they look like a maze.

The stream burbled as we walked, and we enjoyed the variation of rock. The water flowing over the black rock was eyecatching.

The trail was uphill, and Claire was getting hungry and tired. We stopped often. Our explorer made herself at home in the dirt. She found acorn caps, a feather, and interesting leaves. She took a dirt bath — handfuls of dirt thrown up in the air over herself!

When she wasn’t taking a rest, she was doing this!

The watched the dance of sun and shade.

We looked closely at how nature had arranged her designs.

We noticed how the sky was reflected by the water, and how leaves made a dent on the surface.

It was idyllic to sit on the bank and listen. I accidentally dislodged a moderately sized rock. At first I tried to place it back. It had been sitting there for many years, I’m sure. I pondered how all the rocks had probably been where they were for hundreds of years or more. If I threw the rock into the stream, I would change the way things had been for centuries. Do you ever ponder that when you’re in nature? I decided to plunk the rock into the water, where it will likely stay for another era.

Not all rocks were arranged by happenstance. To support the trail, park employees long ago built a wall. What captured our attention is how thoroughly moss had made a home of it.

We reached Upper Falls, but Claire for some reason was scared. There was a small ledge and wood fence, and perhaps this made her nervous.

So we continued up to Basin Falls. It was possible to climb up close to the basin, although Claire decided to wash rocks instead.

They needed a thorough scrubbing!

We looked closely at the water, and how droplets made rings. The stream was clear as glass.

We spent many, many minutes at the edge. She threw small stones, leaves, and dust into the water. She tried to hit a larger rock with a small one and cheered when she succeeded!

On the last leg of our hike, Claire wanted to really get into her exploration. Since I carry spare shoes, undies, and leggings in the car, this was not a problem. She pretended she was a gazelle at the water’s edge.

It was a beautiful day; being in nature made us all mellow and happy. We drove on to see Uvas Reservoir.

The county allows fishing (catch and release), and Claire wants to learn. So do I! I never did try it out as a kid. We made reservations to camp at Uvas Canyon later in the fall, our first camping excursion. Now we just need to gather our supplies. We’re all very excited about this! It’s such a blessing to live this close to wild spaces.

…and jumping into the instructor’s arms.

We’ve also been playing with our food:

One day Claire asked for a knife and began slicing up pepper slices I’d given her. Once she cut them all, she ate them. Never before had she asked to do this, and she demonstrated real dexterity at cutting. That brain of hers is always growing!

Yesterday we took a day trip to Mount Madonna County Park. It’s a gorgeous park, and they also have campgrounds, which we may reserve for later. Here’s the scenic view of the valley:

And up-close views of beautiful mosses and lichen:

We saw California banana slugs:

And a Santa Cruz Gartersnake basking in a spot of sun:

The redwoods are amazing:

These were the Twin Giants:

We had fun hiking the trails:

We visited the Henry Miller Summer Home ruins, and Claire hopped around:

A view from within the former house:

Claire had many questions about the former house and why no one took care of it anymore:

We walked and walked, and later she had a nap on the way home:

We’ve played with paint and paper plates:

And we’ve started collecting our spare change in a jar which we decorated. We’ll empty it periodically and use it to donate to the food bank, or the Family Giving Tree, or some other worthy organization.

And so our summer continues!

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),
It’s always our self we find in the sea.
– e.e. cummings

Headed out to the beach:

Getting cozy in the sand (she also made sand angels):

Barely able to stay still for a photo-op with Mommy:

Racing the waves:

The sky was gray but her heart was not:

Lounging later:

Encountering immensity:

We picked nine pounds of strawberries!

And proceed to this and this:

A sticky, boiling mess!

Ending in this and this!

My first time canning, ever. I ended up with 11 pints of strawberry jam!

Now we’d best be ready to follow through!

‘Tis the season for daisies… At the park yesterday, Claire ran up to me with both hands overflowing. I love being a mother!

To this:

We’ve got much more planting to do, but first we needed to position the tree. This is the north side of the house, and most of the year it gets no direct sunlight.

So I’ve been planting plants, bulbs, and seeds with Claire. We’ve planted rosemary, basil, oregano, and thyme, as well as lavender and jasmine. I’ve also planted Lily of the Valley bulbs, Asiatic Lily bulbs, and a Bleeding Heart bulb. As for seeds, Claire and I sowed plenty: pansies, poppies, zinnias, daisies, and sunflowers, as well as some wildflower mix. We’ll see how well this all grows.

The challenge comes when I surf the internet researching plants and garden planning. There are so, so many sites with lovely plants for sale. I want them all, even though I haven’t the space for them. I also want trellises, a raised bed for vegetables, and on and on.

I must remember this is all a process done in stages. We have various spots of our land than need different major bits of work. We also plan to re-do the back patio and put up a shade awning, and before I start planting around those spaces I need to leave room for the mess and see how the awning affects light near the house. The front of the house also has a couple spots needing major attention, as well as the west side of the house, which is compacted soil and rock from where it used to store the previous owner’s trailer. All in good time. We replaced the fence on the west side; it looks nice, and we had a four-foot gate installed as well, which is a boon for lugging supplies to and fro.

It was so wonderful to spend the weekend outside doing all this. Claire loves it too. My dream of giving her a place to dig in the dirt came true. She also met some snails, which she is not shy about carrying around and playing with. Unfortunately one met its demise at her hands. While she played with it (“he” was her pet), the shell cracked. So she tried to help it move into a new shell (we have a basket of small seashells outside). I explained to her this wasn’t like a hermit crab; he couldn’t just move out and in. But — while I didn’t witness this — I think she tried to help it move into a small seashell, and in the process it got squished. I heard her lament that her friend “went away.” She was sad, but not for long. Our garden does not lack for those creatures.

Since we spent most of the weekend outside, the poor house needs attention. Now I want a magic broom to sweep, and a magic vacuum, and dishwasher fairies. Or at the least a maid service! But alas, I’ll need to take up these tasks myself. I will do so, gratefully.

I’ll know the results next Friday.

It’s been a slow-mo weekend. I’m starting to feel the urge to scratch where the incision was, so healing has begun.

I’ve been nursing Claire through a cold this week, and watching with concern about the disaster in Japan.

Onward.

On Friday, rain gusted through and the winds blew it sideways. It made an attempt at being the big bad wolf, but frankly I’ve seen worse. Later in the day, the clouds parted, the sun beamed, and the forecasters adjusted their expectations. It was to come overnight Saturday. Well, I woke up this morning and took a nice walk. And this is what I saw from the top of La Colina Park (a park near us). The series of photos you see are a 360 panorama. Then there will be some other photos. All of this I submit as evidence that the weather forecasters need to go back to school!

But it was more pleasant than I expected. I checked in 15 minutes early as required. I was seen within 5 minutes, whisked back to a changing room, given a terrycloth robe, and told to wait in a little room chock full of magazines. Shortly I was ushered into the biopsy room.

The room was softly lit overhead (not the interrogation lighting common to such places). There was a 24×36″ photo of a sunset on the Marin Headlands to gaze at. And soft, new-agey music provided background ambiance. If there had been hot towels, aromatherapy, and chimes, I might have fallen asleep. (Not really.) The staff were caring. The physician made a point of talking to me before the procedure about what was coming and held my hand while she did so. The nurse periodically put her hand on my back. At one point I even closed my eyes. Aside from a sting when they put the local anesthesia in, and a little bit of tugging, I felt no sensation. They frequently asked how I was doing. I joked that with a three-year-old at home, it was actually a bit nice to lie still for awhile.

It was over in an hour. They were happy with the sample. They got 99% of the calcifications out and put a teeny titanium marker in the spot in case it turns out to be cancerous and they need to go back. It’s all over except for the results, which unfortunately take time. The earliest I will hear about it is next Thursday, the 17th. I’m a little sore and bruised, but it’s nothing compared to other medical interventions I’ve had.

Until then, I simply don’t have enough information, so I’m not traipsing down any “what if” paths. Yes, I’m a little tense about the unknown, but not in a way that’s ruining the present.

Modest Needs
Feeding America

——

It’s a beautiful night, with a waning full moon. The heatwave has broken. A breeze blows. Lately we’ve been reading The Rainbabies, which features the beautiful Moon. (And it has an unexpected sweetness for me because the main characters are an older couple who dearly long for a child, and are given the miracle of that gift.)

Thus a small poem!