A past sunrise.
Enjoy.
It's hard to believe that it's been 3 years, this weekend, when I shot these pictures. But it's even harder to grasp, is that this was the last time I visited Big Sur, with my mother. 3 months after this visit, she would be dead.
Maybe what's harder is the realization that this wonderful, magical place will always be en-twinged with memories of my family & my mother. That Big Sur, can't just be a destination for me, too many stories, too many wonderful memories. It's part of my California life.
I haven't lived there but I was born and bred, on the Monterey Peninsula, as was my father & mother, before me. But Big Sur was just little further down Hwy 1, almost in our backyard. Close enough to pop down the coast but far away enough that you feel miles and miles away from home.
My first memories of the area were fishing & picnicking along the banks of the Little Sur River. The memories continued with camping trips along the river, skipping high school to hike through Julia Pfeiffer State Park, and hanging around the fireplace at Big Sur Inn or having lunch on the patio of Nepenthe's Restaurant. Even spent a Thanksgiving here.
I even have a weird memory of a first date, on the not so secret nude beach, on the coast of Big Sur. Needless to say, there was only one date!
Other Big Sur associations are the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours Album, smell of sage & cedar, listening to stories of family friends working at Nepenthe during the 60's and moonlight drives on the old coast road.
Even as I write this rambling love letter to Big Sur, it's seems appropriate that my last day-trip with my mother, would be to Big Sur.
So here is to my love for my mother & Big Sur - Cheers.
As I rush to beat the approaching winter storm, to harvest the stragglers, in the vegetable garden. I took a moment to say my final goodbye to Indian Summer and hello winter.
Ta dah!
Yes, Autumn is just around the corner. Even if the temperatures are hovering in the high 80's and the tomatoes & peppers are still producing, like rabbits.
It's not because the calendar says so. It's because the evening temperatures are cooler and the sun doesn't rise as early. The mail order catalogs are starting to fill the mailbox with fall & winter goods. The acorns are falling at faster rate, which by the way, are HUGE this year. All of these are the harbingers of Autumn and I know it's coming.
In a few weeks, I will be pulling out the heavy jeans & leggings and start to put away the summer clothes, until next year. Behind that, I will be slipping my feet into ballerina flats & Uggs.
Next, I will be wondering why we ever bought a house under oak trees, as I blow the driveway for the umpteenth time. Then I will start cleaning out the veggie beds and amending the soil for the long rest.
But until then, I will keep the cotton sheets on the bed (even though I pull the quilt up to my chin). My wardrobe staples will still be linen separates, sandals, shorts and peasant skirts. I'll keep making salsa as fast as the garden will produce as well as barbecue every weekend.
Yes, I am squeezing the last drop of summer out of these few days before I start embracing the change of season.
Thank you, Summer of 2012, it's been grand. Pass the Margarita's!
It's 10:30 am and the outside temperature is 99 degrees. A common summer day, in August. But here I am feeling the onset of Autumn.
You say, "Huh"?
Yes, Autumn is right around the corner and it's first harbinger is that little green guy, in the photo.
The acorn.
It started this past week. I hear little "pings" on my roof and metal fence. Small crushing sounds under the tires of my car, while pulling out of the driveway. It's the acorns. They fall everywhere and the following spring I find the ones that escaped my cleaning, making little oak trees
As soon as the acorns start to fall, the leaves are right behind them.
Have I told you, I dread the falling of oak leaves? They are abundant, messy and a challenge to keep up. If I have to move, I wont' pick a house with oak trees. That's how much I dislike living under them. They are ok, from a distance!
So I as I write this little bleep of a blog, I am thinking of Autumn, while sweating in my shorts & tank top. Would you define this experience as "seasonality"?
Stay cool, out there.
One of the gifts of living in "most" parts of California, is citrus trees. My fellow Californians that live in the "flat lands" have already enjoyed their citrus blossoms but now it's our turn.
This year, we are truly blessed with an abundance of flowers and bees! There is nothing better than to open the windows and smell the gorgeous fragrance, wafting in your rooms. The fragrance is seductive but fleeting. Only once a year do we have this gift.
But later, if we are lucky, we will have the "fruits" of the bees labor.
Thank you spring.
This is the time of the year that I am enjoying the beginnings of Spring; the daffodils showing their colors, the poppies and lupine blooming, in the flat land.
I wasn't expecting, "the white stuff".
As I find myself crawling above the stacks of work and personal obligations, I wonder, "Where did the holidays go? Wasn't it Christmas & New Years, yesterday"?
It doesn't help my diminutive sense of time, that I went from a glorious 50th birthday celebration weekend, in New Orleans (more on that later) to the frozen tundras of Kentucky for work.
There in Northern Kentucky, I found fellow associates, born & bred Californians complaining about the quality of the fruits & vegetables, especially citrus. This discussion made me stop and think , "Do I take for granted the daily bounty of California?".
Answer: yes.
Winter months in California provide an abundance of citrus;from grapefruits (Oro Blanco, the best), Mandarins, Navel oranges to the ever present Cuties.
Citrus is everywhere.
Growing up in the Central Coast of California (a.k.a. Salad Bowl of the USA), citrus was part of my Christmas flavors (also Dungess Crab, See's Candy & sourdough bread). I have lived in places where I had avocado, fig & citrus trees growing in a backyard. The idea of not having easy access to these fruits/flavor, is foreign to this Cal Gal.
Where am I going with this diatribe?
As I peel my "Cutie", I give thanks for living in California.
Amen.
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