Fort Funston is the best place to spend Labor Day! After all, Mango works really hard providing high quality tail wags, looking cute when appropriate and guarding against squirrels. All dogs deserve a day of recognition. A day without leashes, free to sniff, romp and be adored to every heart’s content.

Everyone was commenting about the weather. It was so hot. Sethy and Alan took refuge in a shady sand pit during lunch. Something about trying to loose Uncle Cary - he’s so bouncy. Alan did the first excavations, then Mango and Seth contributed when the mood struck them.

Beach ward bound!

Judy was at this same beach a few weeks ago and rescued a beached baby great white shark. I will see if she will send us the camera phone photo for the inside scoop. (See Sharkey Addendum below)

ARRG Matey! Alan, we are going this way…

Those new Spidey jammies were looking a bit too clean.

Hard to believe that hot dry sand talus faced this icy crashing surf straight out of a Japanese block print.

SHARKEY ADDENDUM

This is Sharkey. Judy and Catherine came across him three weeks ago on a foggy Friday at almost the same spot on the beach as the photo of the waves above. They were able to keep him alive by pouring sea water from Alan’s dog bowl over him for 1/2 an hour. The experts who have seen this camera phone photo believe that he was either a very young Great White, or Salmon Shark. He was about 3 feet long and had lots of teeth (unfortunately the teeth shot got erased from the phone). Eventually a young man came by and they were able to gingerly hoist him on to some old plywood and scoot him back into the surf. Judy said that after they got him back in the water they noticed 2 huge fins about 30 feet out, so presumably the parents were relieved to get their precious bundle back. I like to think it was a shark playdate and the moms were showing the young how to sample the Chocolate Lab Counter at Fort Funston.

This morning was a little confused, a transition day to end all transition days. Our early morning was spent swinging trying to push away the inevitable separation process that was looming. We milled about unsure of how to occupy ourselves.

“ROLLING PIN FOR STEAM ROLLING THE NEWLY PACKED DIRT ~ SATURDAY”

Seth suggested that we do some work under the oak tree, I began to fiddle around with the pots we had packed with fancy pants soil over the weekend. Then he said it, “Mommy, are we going to plant the seeds?” That was all it took. The optimism in the phrase, the eager step forward, one child’s joyful will clarified my path for me. I stopped wallowing in roadside confusion. Pulled myself out of the ditch of distraction and found my life again. I’d been waiting for this moment, following a dim remembrance of peace and productivity. I’d been hanging around waiting for that big break!

It wasn’t all this easy. Last week and this weekend were angrier than ever. We arrived at Orchard Supply bright and early on Saturday only to be greeted by the stench of off-gassing plastic, industrial cleaner and the all mighty Monsanto aisle. We pressed on for shade cloth, the one and only item that Orchard Supply should/would have. Did I note the emphasis on Orchard? And did I mention that shade cloth is for fruit trees? Of course we get there and they have everything but the actual shade cloth I need. Bitter and rampaging I finally settle for this stuff called “Crop Cover” that sort of resembles shade cloth. We cross town lamenting the Big Box of it all, and head for the organic home farm head quarters Common Ground.

http://www.commongroundinpaloalto.org/

In true suburban form, it turns out that you no longer have to mix your 3 part planting mix by hand. You just buy the fancy pants dirt already mixed for 14 bucks a bag! I decided to and try it. After all I am not sure how much bat guano crystals and kelp emulsion my home made compost ever had in it, and I am willing to splurge on an early spa treatment for our winter crop. On the way out I asked the thoughtful straw hatted woman at the counter about shade cloth. Her comment was, “Oh we don’t bother with shade cloth, we just use this stuff called “Crop Cover”.

S: Mommy I can’t sleep because I am out of batteries…Mommy I can’t sleep because I have flames on my jammies.

A: Do you want me to pour water on them?

S: Yes, and cover them in mud too!

Well I moved out of the coolest house I may ever live in. I cut bait on the vintage life I worked so hard to cultivate. I said goodbye to the Santa Cruz mountains for now. Abandoning the apple trees in full fruit, and the peaceful field of golden nostalgia.

How could I resist a last shot of back lit turkeys? Fanning me farewell with their burgeoning tails. I’m about to trade turkeys for Toyotas in my flight to the suburbs.

I’m not completely without optimism. Nature seems to pop up everywhere. I have high hopes that my sensibilities will still alight on the nature of things no matter where I live.

Somethings had to go, so I hereby document Blue’s old pillows. Blue the dog of the century. I kept these pillows despite Mango’s disapproval because they still smelled like Blue. It’s funny what makes us sentimental.

I think more than the house itself I will miss the ghost that inhabited it. She was a truly grand lady. She made her opinions known, and bolstered my confidence when I needed a nudge. I hope that if I feel compelled to linger, I do it with the same sense of style.

Also more than the house itself I loved the walls. I spent many a meditative morning sipping tea and pondering the wet walls in the drizzle. In the summer the walls served as Times Square for the uncannily large lizard population. At the nursery I found myself looking for plants that would accent the walls. I simply couldn’t pay enough homage to these classic architectural elements. I wanted to take the walls with me - alas.

The house matched in odd ways, that never seemed premeditated.

I worked hard for this “perfect life”. I had to achieve that pinnacle of domestic bliss that has defined women for centuries. I had to have this attachment in order to change. It was evident the minute I cleaned up that last rat’s nest and all was perfect - that I had to leave. In the brief process of shedding this dream I have gained insight. Every time I move my next domicile is lived in more fully, and the rituals of daily life and family are celebrated more. I loved my time here, and I was sorry to cut it short.

Goodnight vintage house.

A few more indulgent garden shots before I go. It was my dream house, and my first vegetable garden.

I just loved the way the switch grass intertwined with the pumpkins. I had to untangle them today. I can’t quite think of the metaphor, but it wasn’t easy.

I think this is how I will always remember this house. Lots of blue sky.

Perhaps I will sow these somewhere else.

Can’t beat the morning light here.

For such an arid location, this garden was always alive with toads. This one came out to say, “goodbye”. Or so I am speculating.

The first summer we moved here was the summer of the deer. Dozens of them would hang out under the apple trees at night - the old guys would hack and cough and trip over all the young does. Last summer was the summer of the mountain lion, complete with a confirmed kill practically in our back yard (no deer to speak of that summer). This summer is the summer of the turkeys. They have made their home in the field and I must say they are delightful to have around. We spot them at least once a day Mommy, Daddy and brood foraging for insects and seeds as if it is all they could think to do (humm?).

We see them in the woods too, trying to look inconspicuous but without much luck. The other day Seth and I came across some of their tracks in some soft dust. Their feet are much larger than you would expect. And their legs are so strong. I had this sort of Plymouth Rock image of turkeys, but these are lean bodied long haunched birds. I think they are part Emu.

I’ve gotten used to having them around. I find it comforting when they cruise by in the early morning and keep me company while I water. They seem to know it’s me and don’t get too ruffled about my presence. Often times one of the young will dart off to far after an insect and one of the parents will have to herd it back. The kids are almost the same size as thier parents, but apparently they still do not have the know how of survival down pat.

They like to roost in the lone apple tree in the middle of the field. I went over to investigate and found it littered with these lovely feathers.

Dear Seth,

On the way to Butano we stopped at Emily’s. When the girl behind the counter asked you what you wanted you said, “The chocolate cupcake, the one with the starfish on it.”

Fun Fact:

A: Do you want orange paint.

S: No.

A: Why not?

S: Because they do not use orange paint on the island of Sodor.

-

Sunday morning commentary after being asked to help move compost.

“Mommy I don’t want a job, I want to fly!”

-

There has been lots of talk about dragons this month.  A few weeks ago you watched Shrek.  Or at least you watched it up until the point where the dragon is chasing Shrek out of the castle.  For the first week after that you would wake up and ask me a battery of questions about the dragon scene.  This was intense for a week, but it still has not stopped.

Why did the dragon shoot fire at Shrek?

Who put Princess Fiona in the castle?

Why did Shrek take Princess Fiona out of the castle?

Who put the dragon in the castle?

Why does the dragon like the donkey?

Why didn’t the dragon shoot fire at Princess Fiona?

And so forth, relentlessly.  Love + Mommy

The best place to start a state park visit is in the crapper. We were not at Big Basin State Park for more than 10 minutes today, when Ford announced he had to go #2. Of course, Seth and Chas had to do this too because, well because Ford was doing it. Although half way in to the session Seth announced, “Mom, I’m going #3″. I barely had time to giggle when Ford in his stall announced, “#3 is my infinite poo number”. I’m not sure exactly what this meant but I think there was some quantum physics involved in this potty talk.

Steph is covering her ears because the kids were making this shrill combo of screams. The echo of this siren song was so unbearable that I think I have permanent damage in my right ear from taking this shot.

The kids then proceeded to scare the “crap” he he out of Steph by climbing up this ginormous log. Chas in true form would not give up his sticks for anything, even balance. Which is sort of when we surrendered the day to sticks.

It’s pretty amazing how many times you can twist a stick in your shirt. I’m pretty sure that Seth was a model in the early 80’s - oh wait that was his daddy Jim.

Ford was really precise about how his sticks were placed in his clothing. He really reminded me of those exterminate robots from Dr. Who he is so fond of.

And the dust storm. Aside from fascinating the boys no end, the patterns of the dust in the light were riveting. Eventually Seth suffered a stick wound to the knee and had to be molly coddled for a bit, but that was soon forgot and they were back to harassing redwood trees.

For the first hour I worried dreadfully about the sticks, but then I came to an understanding with my inner eye poker outer. I realized that the kids were in some sort of zen dance, because really the sticks never came close to their comrades. They seemed to be intouch with some higher spacial awareness. Either that or the trees were looking out for the little buggers.

The Day had some humor.

And some art.

And somewhere on the outskirts of the mayhem the fairies were watching us. Although the noise of our boys was deafening I can’t imagine that anything with magic would hang around.

All in all it was a boy’s kind day, in and out of trunks. Up and down logs. Banging on fence posts until ~~~~ the dreaded splinter! Chas got a splinter under his fingernail that (no joke) was the size of the log in the third photo!

Chas’ screaming was so loud that the park was emptying of tourists before our eyes. He was so brave, and teetered in agony to the ranger hut where - thank god, they were able to produce some tweezers. It was funny they kind of looked at us like why would you want tweezers, and why is that kid screaming? You’d think we were not the first visitors to suffer an splinter?

“You know mom, this post is getting long. Why don’t you give it a rest and come play shooters with us! Don’t worry mommy they’re just pretend - look it’s really a stick!”

Last night I walked over to our old house to do some plein air painting. I sat under the old Madrone tree in the crook of who’s roots I lived, and cooked and nursed a baby, only to find that it is now dead. I loved living under it in July because the bark would peel and the leaves would fall all night. Such a magical experience.

~ Anyway I did a nice sketch of it which looked fine with a first light layer of gouache, but as I laid in color it got worse.

After that I meandered home. As I came to the gate I kicked this cool archetypal acorn, and when I crossed the road there in the grass was this monster owl feather (complete with lots of feather fuzz for the silent glide). I painted those when I got home. Nothing like loosing yourself in a gouache mosh!

Dear Chris and MZ,

It’s so lovely to have a green “patch of Madison” in the arid Santa Cruz mountains.  It always reminds me that somewhere in the heartland of the continent I have a home.  It’s been fun over the years to see how your gardens spring up no matter where you move.  I’ve drawn inspiration from your successes, and learned a bit along the way (yes I made note in Denver, and only plant one tomatillo per year). I’m tickled by the fact that we have our own little seed exchange going. It’s so charmingly old fashioned, yet at the same time such a deep gift of nourishment.

Enjoy the garden.

Love + A

This color is so MZ I can’t get over it!

Bells of Ireland ~ A memorial of multiple sorts

Every eggplant and squash has to be a baby sometime.

Our “Provonce” shot

Always a pension for texture

Pelargoniums ~ Carefully propagated, wintered over on Seth’s Rubbermaid diaper changing cart and wheeled out for sunshine on the upper deck of doom on warm February days.

Gramps and Mattie’s Garden ~ The sunflowers and pumpkins were planted by Seth and Francis. I had to edit a little because the boys wanted the seeds all in one big pile. I did my best to spread them out. The tomatoes are simply in full glory. some stems have a dozen to a vine, hanging perilously close to the ground.