Storm signs, wolf moon, flowers

The January storms got wilder and wilder. Rain sloshed down in torrents, wind tore trees loose, waves pummeled the coastline.

This sign on Mirada Road at Miramar took a beating:

Getting to the post office in Granada was a drenching experience:

29 January brought us the wolf moon -- the first full moon of the new year. It was spectacular. When a full moon occurs during the perigee (the closest the moon gets in its orbit to the Earth), the moon looks its biggest and brightest. It was a cloudy, blustery night, but the heavens opened to give us this glowing glimpse:

Then the rains paused and the sun shone on the oxalis that dances in neon yellow across coastal hillsides.

We called oxalis sour grass when we were kids... sucking on the stems gives you a definite pucker.

And of course you can play in the fields of oxalis when you want to, even when you grow up.

Surf rising

The little waves that ruffled to shore in my beach haiku are gone, replaced by good-sized waves that curl in with spray steaming back off their tops.

As the winter waves get bigger, the coastside buzzes with speculation about the big-surf contest held in our front yard.

"Have they called Mavericks?" asked a woman at the gym.

"I bet they'll call Mavericks on Wednesday" said the greengrocer at the farm stand.

"Surf's comin' up, swell's right," commented a laconic cop at the taqueria, "can't call Mavericks 'til the wind's right, though."

Mavericks, the big-wave spot off Pillar Point, was named for a white-haired German shepherd dog with an adventurous spirit. The spot didn't gain fame until the early '90s, and gained notoriety in 1994 when Mark Foo, a Hawai'ian big-surf legend, wiped out and disappeared on an 18-foot wave. The first surf competition was held out there in 1999. In the early days when Mavericks was called, hand-lettered cardboard signs saying Mavericks today! were tacked up on telephone poles, letting us know that we needed to skip work and stick around.

I grew up during the surfing craze of the '60s, woodies and Surfin' Safari and all, and I never got over it. I body-surfed Santa Cruz waters but never graduated to the longboard elite. Wasn't ever a gidget-type surfer girl either, good grief. Meanwhile, three hundred miles to the south, Wm was one of the longboard elite, surfing Zuma and Trestles and Malibu. We have salt water in our veins, we dream of breathing underwater, and the waves call.

You can learn all about Mavericks, check the contest status, and watch the competition live when it's on at http://www.maverickssurf.com/.

The silver lining for 2010

On the last day of 2009, Wm and I walked on the beach at sunset and we saw the silver lining for 2010! A flash of silver beneath the clouds, where the sky met the sea...


"...the little silver flash...follows the setting of the sun, making a brief crescent of light no thicker than the crescent of a fingernail along the horizon line" says the story of Umai, a girl of the Yurok tribe who yearned to know what the crescent of light was.

Umai took her canoe to the edge of the world:

"She sat at the world's edge, watching quietly. She saw that the sky does not rest solidly on the ocean, but that it lifts and dips and lifts and dips in an even rhythm...and she saw that it is this dipping sky that causes the waves...

 "The sun went down behind the edge of the world and was followed by the familiar silver flash. But from so much closer up, Umai saw that it was not at all a narrow crescent, but a waving, moving something with a center of living brightness..."*

May 2010 be filled with good health, and a center of living brightness for us all.

* This story is told in The Inland Whale: Nine Stories Retold from California Indian Legends by Theodora Kroeber, published in 1959.

Beach haiku

Today we walked on the beach on a very low tide and watched the sanderlings and willets scurry along as the small waves met the shore at Miramar. Out beyond Pillar Point is where the huge waves of the renowned Mavericks surf spot build, but the waves on this day were small and peaceful. I waxed poetic in the sand.

little waves ruffling to shore
on a low low tide
small shorebirds jitterbugging

Here is a small bird jitterbugging near the ruffling waves:

Rebecca goes camping

Today I borrow from Wm's web site, where he says:

We just got back from a camping trip, and we are pleased to report that Rebecca is back to being Rebecca. I have to admit that I never thought we would all be hiking and camping together after last month's prognosis; we were thinking in terms of days.

Rebecca has gained all of her weight back and was chasing the raccoons and critters away from our campsite like she always has. We still take it one day at a time but this last camping trip was really special with her; Ellen and I have had dogs all of our lives but we have never seen a dog with so much spirit and true grit. She made us totally forget about the situation and it was a well-needed emotional rest and a slip back into normalcy.

Somehow, it reminds me of getting a second chance like in Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life...even if the outcome suddenly changes we will always remember this little miracle and be grateful for the extra quality time we are getting with Rebecca.

 A few photos, of course:


Our campsite over looking Sunset Beach between Santa Cruz and Monterey

Rebecca guarding the food


Yo!...let's go hiking!


Check out the surfer dudes (Rebecca always finds the action)




Rebecca loves the sunset...means dinner, critter chasing, and a campfire.


After the campfire wears down, it is time for the warm innards of Goldie, our home away from home. You can see the snow clouds forming behind...it snowed the following day in the Santa Cruz Mountains.


Goldie is our all-original 1971 Dodge factory-conversion van which sleeps two adults and two small children (or two adults and one large dog), dining area, wet bar, kitchen sink, fridge, and stove, along with lots of drawers and closet space. We just hit 70K original miles on this last trip.



"Hey Dad...stop your yapping...my burger is ready..."

Rebecca's back!

Rebecca, Duchess of Mountain and Sea, does indeed have the heart of a champion. I'm so happy to say that she's begun a course of treatment for her lymphoma and is beginning to spring back. Her prance is back in her step, and she often laughs.

Here's Rebecca on the trail, either laughing or yawning.

During the week or so when she just wasn't eating we coaxed her with chicken breast and barley or rice, mooshed about with homemade chicken broth. We were afraid we'd created a gourmet monster, but as her appetite returns she's turning to her regular food with some enthusiasm. Still, of course, she gives us the stare-down for her treat that contains her medication.

Rebecca's treatment will continue for some months, with the vet gauging her progress and adjusting as we go along. Although we hope for remission, the treatment will at least give her her quality of life back. Thankfully she doesn't seem to be in any pain.

As life returns to normal, our trips to the Half Moon Bay farmer's market have resumed. The Pomegranate Man sings his wares, and the greens, persimmons, and squashes make a happy presentation.

And on days when the weather is fine, we'll once again feel like setting out for a drive in the Chili Pepper, the red-hot Miata... as on this pre-diagnosis Sunday drive.

Chili's bug-eyes look down a eucalyptus lane near Pescadero.

On Highway 1, the misty clifs wind northward.

Blessing Rebecca

Our beautiful Rebecca, Duchess of Mountain and Sea, has been diagnosed with lymphoma and our hearts are so heavy. We don't yet have the full diagnosis and prognosis; the lab work went to the cytologyist on Friday, and we'll know on Tuesday.

Rebecca came to us 9 years ago. We had recently lost our dear pal Kelsey and were strolling in Placerville, a town in California's Sierra Nevada foothills. There, on the sidewalk next to an SPCA table filled with brochures and doggy treats, sat a beautiful creature wearing a blue jacket that said "I'm adoptable!" on it.

We stopped and looked into those golden eyes and she looked back. She wagged. We wagged. She put her foot on Wm's foot, looked up at him, and said Take me home! And we did.

On the drive back up to the cabin she gazed interestedly around from the Outback's way-back. When we arrived she leapt out, ran up the stairs, and sat at the door waiting for us. Once inside, she headed straight for Kelsey's regular spot, turned around three times, and plopped down. She was home.

Here's Rebecca, smiling on the bank of the American River.

Rebecca was already three years old when she came to us, and we had no idea what we were getting.

What we were getting was the gentlest, most intelligent dog either of us has ever met. She barks when there's a reason to, and otherwise keeps her council. She speaks Italian, Spanish, French, and Russian in addition to English. At least, she understands the words for walk, eat, go, she, her, beach, Madame, and Duchess in those languages...and who knows what else that she doesn't let us know about? All attempts at talking around her have failed, because she learns the words quickly and knows just what's up.

Here's Rebecca galloping on Miramar beach.

The vet says Rebecca has the heart of a champion, and we hope that her lymphoma is treatable. We have to wait until Tuesday to find out, but in the meanwhile we decided that the thing to do was get her blessed at the local church's Blessing of the Pets ceremony yesterday, in honor of St. Francis. She donned her yellow lei and off we went in the thin November sunlight.

Here's Pastor Larry, who married Wm and me, blessing Rebecca:

Blessed Rebecca.