A few more images from my trip to the Central Coast.
I took many walks around the neighborhood where my parents live, and hiked in the canyon behind their house. In the past I've seen deer, coyotes and a fox while exploring creekside. This time, the canyon was empty.
For three days straight it poured with rain. I didn't even mind it.
I'm going to see the folks I dig
I'll even kiss a sunset pig
California I'm coming home ~ Joni Mitchell From the song "California"
Heading up the coast on Pacific Coast Highway, we immediately turn right at Topanga Canyon. It's tradition. Before our trip, I daydreamed about climbing the winding road that leads to a pocket above Malibu with a rugged but lush forest full of hawks and wildlife and houses hanging off the mountain. Long haired, barefoot hippie girls sit under a tree outside the trading post, sharing an avocado sandwich and laughing while a man with a pony tail in harem pants lingers by the side of the road with an exotic parrot on his shoulder. There he is. We've seen him before. It's a typical sunshiny day in the canyon, and the vibe is exactly what you'd expect. We browse my favorite shop and I snag a long sleeved prussian blue T shirt. It's tradition. This one reads "Mystical & Magical Mermaid. Topanga Canyon, California".
We're on our way to visit my folks who live about three hours north of there. We stay with them every spring break. It's tradition.
I crane my neck driving through Zuma Beach, hoping to spot a porpoise. We jabber about porpoises and dolphins and what's the difference. I scan the blue gray water for shark fins, but only see an occasional boat, a stand up paddler or two and a group of black wetsuits waiting for the perfect wave.
Santa Barbara is a beautiful sight, all Riviera looking, with their white Spanish mansions on the hill and terra cotta tiled roofs. It's a neighborhood rule. All houses have to look the same. All built with the same construction idea. Aesthetically pleasing to the eye.
We spend the next few days hiking the Irish hills, taking turkey walks and sipping mochas on the patio at Linnea's. Phoenix bookstore is packed and stacked to the ceiling with old books and I leave C to wallow in all his glory while I trot next door to the record store to look for the new Joni Mitchell box set. At Central Coast Surfboards, we visit with the kids who remember us as that couple from Wyoming.
As always, we spend a day at Morro Bay with my folks, walking the boardwalk. It's tradition. There are so many sea birds pecking on the shore, and frolicking sea otters, twirling around in the bay. At noon we enjoy lunch at an outdoor patio cafe while seagulls sit patiently waiting for us to leave.
In my parents' house, there is laughter and music and long conversations. In my parents' house it's comfortable and quiet and you can be yourself.
*************************************************************************************************************************** I'm sitting at LAX waiting for our flight to Denver that's been delayed due to a blizzard. We were just walking the Malibu Pier two hours ago, checking out the surfers. A warm California day. And now, it's back to reality. The reality of where we live. Where we're headed. To the North country. The Rocky Mountains. SNOW. So we wait. And wait. For the go ahead on the sketchy flight out of here. You know me. I'm a nervous wreck. But, I've got C by my side. He holds my hand and teases me and makes me smile. That, too, is tradition.
An icy blue winter day sprayed in sunlight, complete with tracks belonging to rabbits, squirrels, and deer. Up high in a spruce tree, two great horned owls, soft pale grey in color, have stolen a nest from a red tailed hawk and made it their own. Baby owlet heads will appear soon, along with more action, coming and going, and perhaps a better image of these feathered beauties will be possible.
I am teased about using my iPad as my only camera. It works for most occasions, but this is the result of my owl nest as I zoomed in to the max. Can you see their nest? Sure you can! Two sets of ear like tufts are in there too. I saw them...with binoculars.
Maybe it's time to invest in a real camera. Maybe the teasing will stop.
But, what fun is that?
I got a tattoo!! A press on tattoo, that is.
Books play a huge role in my life. I'm surrounded by them! In my home and where I work, there they are, standing tall and protected by dust jackets and bookends.
My husband is addicted to books. Once a week, along comes the mail carrier with a package under his arm. He hands it to me with a smile. He knows and I know. Another first edition by John Geirach or Jim Harrison is safely tucked inside.
Sometimes I am gifted with books he finds at garage sales, or Friends of the Library book sales in other towns, in other states. Quite often, C will pick up a book for me because the cover art looks like something I might like, or the title is amusing, or the subject is on moose, canoeing, nature or Hippies!
What would the world be without books...and friends...and coffee...
Well, it's February and here I go again, longing for the desert. As the snow gets deeper, so do my thoughts on warmer, dryer places. In winter, I think about summer. On nights when the temperature is in the single digits, I like nothing better than to sit in front of the fire and plan a trip to Arizona or New Mexico. Every winter I check out travel books to the Caribbean, Belize, New Zealand or Bali. It all sounds so exciting, the aqua waters, steel drum bands, colorful sarongs, bare feet and MaiTai's. But, it's the cactus and succulents with fushia flowers, the sharp spines on the mighty saguaros, the prickly pear and jumping cholla in the vast Sonoran desert that stirs my wanderlust. Thoughts of this scene are what really thrill me!
Like right now, I'm picturing myself staying at a birding cottage, an adobe, in the Chiricahua mountains. I see a Roadrunner, zipping past a mama Gambel's Quail and her six young 'uns, and a coyote in the distance. Above me in the Chiracahua pine and sycamore trees are flycatchers, flickers, swallows and wrens. Mockingbirds and thrashers, warblers, sparrows and hummers. All singing different songs, at the same time. Oh! There's a Gila monster! And a desert tortoise too. And over there, a white-tailed deer is kissing an ocelot. (Like I said, this is my image).
I feel warmer in winter just thinking about these places in the desert southwest. The jewels in my world. Lands I will never get tired of reading about. Places I'll forever go to. Every year, for as long as I live.
But, for now, I will book mark this page, the one with the blooming Ocotillo, so vibrant orange red. It's time to wax my skis. There's a mountain here that's calling my name.
Are you day dreaming of places far and wide?
Poem by Kathleen Lynch
I'm no photographer. But, Ernesto Scott is.
The first time I saw his photographs was at an exhibition The Birds Of Ucross at the UCROSS FOUNDATION ART GALLERY. He came to Ucross as an artist-in-residence. It's a unique retreat in the northern High Plains of Wyoming, for writers, composers, painters and photographers.
Ernesto was so inspired by the avarian residents of this wild and peaceful place, hanging his photographs gave the rest of us an opportunity to experience two undiscovered jewels: The Ucross artist retreat and Ernesto Scott, photographer extraordinaire.
Hey, all you fans of feathers and wings! To learn more about Ernesto and to see all of his impressive avian photography, visit:
www.redstartimages.com
Fold your wings and dive in as poet Kathleen Lynch says.
Real cowboys on horseback, riding the wide open range, moving cattle. Yeah, just your typical day in the Cowboy State.
Looks like summertime, but I took these photos two weeks ago.
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For hours he would ride
On the range far and wide
When the night wind blows up and slow
His heart is a feather
In all kinds of weather
He sings his cattle call
YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO !
*****written in 1934 by songwriter Tex Owens and sung by Eddy Arnold
