An Overnighter with the Prospector's Mom

When my husband was a little boy, his parents took him camping and fishing... a lot.
One of the places that they went, every year, was called Pinecrest Lake. 

This is where the Prospector, his brother, our sons and our grandsons go for a week every summer.
It had been many years since my husband's Mom had been up there so a few weeks ago, we called her and asked if she wanted to drive up to Pinecrest and stay overnight. She said "Yes!!". My mother-in-law's name is Vi.
She is 91 years old... and still full of spit and vinegar.

So last Wednesday we drove the back roads from Jackson to Sonora and then east up into the mountains. Her daughter drove Vi from Stockton, through Oakdale and up to Sonora.  We met at the Lake.
We got settled into our motel room. Ours was on the very end. There were only six rooms in this motel. We were the only ones there until late that night, when one other couple came in.
Pinecrest is a busy, popular place in the summer but now it is peaceful and quiet.

The resort has cabins and condos for rent too.

 I wish I could include the smells of Pinecrest...the pines, firs and oaks, the campfires and "mountain misery". The familiar sounds of crows and mountain jays and a red tailed hawk sailing over head.

 We checked in and then drove down to the lake.

The Fall color was just starting. The weather was beautiful.

 We took a walk down to the lake. Look at that woman go. She has cruise control on that walker. She walks almost a mile every day around her neighborhood with her niece. She's a lesson to us all.
We finally made Vi sit and rest for a while. I sat with her and the Prospector and his sister went down to the water.

They came back with two homemade anchors that were found because the water level was so low.

 One was very old. The Prospector lost two when he was here a few months ago.
The weather was beautiful. Probably the last good week. It's suppose to snow here on Wednesday.

 This lake is regulated by the Pacific, Gas and Electric Co. Right now it's very low. You can see a lot of huge boulders and tree stumps in the water.
 We also drove to Strawberry... just a few miles up the highway. 

This is the south fork of the Stanislaus River... and it's a beautiful stretch of wilderness. It comes out of Pinecrest Lake, flows downstream joining its north and middle fork and then flows into New Melones reservoir.

This river has been extensively dammed and diverted and is a river of controversy. Here is some information about what happens when too many people need too much water and the "wars" that ensue. It's an ongoing problem with all the rivers in California.

This is looking upriver from the bridge on Old Strawberry Rd. I learned the art of fishing from the Prospector here before we were married. I learned the art of river fishing... and patience. I learned how to read a river and where the fish hide.
I don't fish much now, but this is where it started.

And below is Dawson's cabin, up on the hill to the south of the bridge. This belonged to a friend of my husband's father. It looked better in the 60's.  Then, there were no other cabins around it.
Remember the couple who came to visit us before our 50 year reunion? Al and Ginny... from Washington? Well the four of us stayed in this cabin one summer night in about 1964. We were young, not married yet... and well, it was scandalous behavior for all of us. I'm not even sure how we were able to use the cabin that night. We must have gotten the key from someone but I don't remember where or how. Maybe there wasn't a key.
I didn't want to sleep in the cabin because of all the spiders, (I'm sure it has a ton more now.) so the Prospector and I slept outside on the ground. That was a first for me... but a beautiful memory.

Now, no one is using it and it's in a state of decay. But it's still there, overlooking the river.

 We never told Vi that we stayed overnight up there. I'm sure she would not have approved, then. But the Prospector was conceived just up the road at another cabin in the Dardanelles and she loves to tell that story. Of course, she and grandpa were married... so that made it OK.

What are they looking at?

 They were all looking at a HUGE house that was being built up on the hill. It was one of those McMansions that are overwhelming and ostentatious. I guess some folks just have to flaunt their wealth. I will give them the benefit of the doubt and guess that this was a primary home and not a vacation home. I didn't take a picture of it.

When I was taking pictures and trying not to fall into the river, I found a very interesting metal marker in a huge rock that I was standing on. It's a US Coast and Geodetic Survey Bench Mark.

The term is generally applied to any item used that shows a point of elevation for reference. Bronze or aluminum disks are set in stone or concrete. Go here for more information. I thought this was interesting. It was put in this boulder in 1957 and I had to laugh because there's a $250. fine or imprisonment for disturbing it. Believe me, there is no way that this "bench mark" is going to come out of this rock unless you use dynamite. It looks really tamper proof.
Vi and I use to collect rocks up at the Dardanelle's campground. We would get the biggest ones we could carry and lug them back to the car where the Prospector and his dad would roll their eyes and complain about the extra weight. It got to be a joke. We would be driving along and I would call out "ROCK." and  Vi would yell, "Stop the car." and then we would laugh at the guys when they got mad about the whole thing.
We carried a lot of rock up from that river and took them home with us. To this day, Vi still has them lining her garden in Stockton. But we never saw any with "Benchmarks" in them. The boulders with benchmarks  were too big to carry home. Grandpa would have really had a fit.

Later that day, we went back to our motel, cleaned up and went out to dinner.Then we came back to the motel and crashed...
We slept well.
 Next time I will show you some photos of the beach at Pinecrest and  other interesting things that go on in the beautiful Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Awesome, Fleeting Life

Before I write this post I want to send some good wishes and strength to all the folks on the east coast that just went through that horrible hurricane.
The flooding, the swollen rivers, the damage that was done... What we are seeing on TV is awful.
Mother Nature sure went on a rampage for a few days.
I wish all of you well and hope the electricity comes on soon.
******************************


Do you ever get up early just so you can be up when the sun rises? I did this morning.

It's been so hot everyday here and I wanted to clean out some planters and put bedding plants in for Fall.
So I had planned on getting up early. We let the dogs out of their crates and they played on the bed with us for a while.
You've got to love retirement.
The Prospector got up and made coffee.
Gotta have that coffee.
It's one of my guilty pleasures.
It was a beautiful California Foothill morning....

Earlier, I heard the coyote yipping and howling across the canyon and, because we sleep under a low window toward the east.
I could still see stars and the little dipper in the southeastern sky.
I've always wondered about the stars.
When I was a kid, I use to look up into that vast endless space and wonder if it wasn't really a ceiling...some kind of  huge dome and we were really on the inside. As a child, this made me feel more secure to think that we were surrounded by a beautiful protective dome.
This morning the stars slowly disappeared and the world took on a glow. Oh how I love to see this happen. It's like the day is beginning again and all things are possible.

The first cup of coffee is ritually drunk on the couch with a dog on each side of me.
The second cup usually moves out to the front yard.
The dogs look ( and smell) for anything that might have trespassed during the night. They do their business and them they want to be fed, so we all come back in for breakfast.
The Prospector had plans to help our neighbor pick something up in town at his aunt's house, so we ate a quick breakfast and I returned to the yard to plant flowers. The dogs followed me.
Carl went berserk at the fence and I realized that a young buck was standing outside the fence looking at Carl.
The buck looked at me as if to say, "That little dog needs to chill out or I'm going to kick his A$$."
The buck just stood there, watched us for a while and then moved on down the road. Carl settled down.

A wild turkey mom and two of her babies were drinking at the water bucket.

We always keep water out for the wild animals in the summer. It's so dry and hot. We fill it every day.
The turkey don't seem to elicit the same reaction from Carl as the deer. I think Carl and Cutter are  intimidated by the size of the deer so they act tough to compensate.
The turkey are like our chickens... they even hang around together.  The dogs will bark at them if they come too close to the fence.
Crazy dogs.... they want to herd and control everything.
So, the rest of the morning was spent planting, pulling some weeds and watering. It was delightful.

The Prospector came back and went to work on the the potting shed.
He's putting the roof on this week.

How many of you know what roof sheeting clips are? "What?"..... Yep! That's what the guy said when I tried to buy some at Lowe's yesterday. It took three people to finally tell me that they only had 1/2 in. roof sheeting clips and that was not the size that I needed.

When I was wet behind the ears (as my Dad used to say) and just married. I worked for a hardware store. It was called Kelleway Hardware in Walnut Creek, CA. I managed the housewares dept. and worked the cash register. It was really fun.
Oh, what a long time ago that was. I wore mini shirts and pantyhose.... and an apron.... and I knew what  roof sheeting clips were and where they were in the store. I knew the size of nails and how to cut glass.
I loved that store and the guys that worked there.
We would party on Saturday nights, get up and go to work on Sunday... hungover or not.
Seems like a million years ago.
How life moves... like a river. Yes it does...

So the little shed is getting a roof.

and then we will start the finishing work.

My early morning planting made the wine barrels look nice, I think.

and the color is ready for Fall...

for pumpkins on the porch...
and leaves falling...
For cold weather... and Halloween.
I'm waiting...
The last of the butterfly bush blooms are in a vase .

The fragrance is so wonderful, so Summer, but I'm ready to say goodbye to the heat and the dryness.
I'm waiting for the stillness and cold of Winter.

Beholding

One Home with Many Hearts.

I have been at my son's house. He took his little family to Disneyland. I offered to house sit and take care of Lizzy, their dog.

Last Thursday I arrived at the house and it was the Bean and little Bean's last day of swimming lessons. Their mommy and I drove them down to the old swimming pool at the park. I remember this pool so well. I use to come here on hot summer days to swim and hang with my friends.

That was a long time ago. Now it is my grandchildren who are building memories.

THE BEAN IS SWIMMING!! He is six years old.

FLOATING... doing the BACKSTROKE. He is even coordinating his breathing with his strokes. This is something that his NONI never learned how to do. He was AWESOME in the water. 
He was so pleased with himself.

Can you see the smile? Can you see the new confidence?
*********************

LITTLE BEAN IS FOUR YEARS OLD. He is fearless and wants to do as well as his brother. He is learning to be the Creature from the Black Lagoon.... only cuter.

I want you to know that this is one brave little boy.... after his lessons he jumped off of the diving board for the first time. They had to walk out there by themselves and just off into the deep water. 

This little girl, above, walked halfway out, stopped, turned around and got off. 

I REMEMBER THAT FEELING. I had pigtails too. 
Wait! I remember this like it was yesterday. I could have been that little girl. 
Maybe it was my imagination. I had a de ja vu moment. I understood her completely. I heard her inner voice say, "No way. I'm not jumping into all that water.".... and she didn't. It was a defining moment in her life. Maybe someday but NOT TODAY. ... no way.


I finally jumped off of a diving board when I was 14 years old. I still wasn't ready, but there was this really cute boy watching me. I wanted to make a great impression so I jumped. I almost drowned. I think it was worth all that water up my nose. I really don't remember.  It was not one of my finer moments.
**********************
My grandson was next. He walk right out there and stood on the end of the board. I was fairly close to him so I said. "OK ! You can do it." (even though I was thinking "Maybe you shouldn't do this. You're so little.... wait... what are you doing....) and before I could say "Bonsai Bean", he jumped. 

MY HEART WAS IN MY THROAT! He went under the water, came back up and into the arms of his waiting instructor. We all shouted "That a boy!!", "All right!".... and I took a deep breath.

Little Bean got to play in the water fountain area for a few minutes....
Then he started to look cold....

Then he was shaking.....

Time to take the wet shirts off and wrap them in warm dry towels.

 Time to go home... with their special awards. 

Now they were full fledged, official water beans. They were tired and cold .... but proud.
*********************

When my son came home from work they packed up and got into the car. They would drive about three hours south and stop somewhere overnight. Tomorrow....
DISNEYLAND, Lego Land and the beaches of Southern California.

I waved goodbye and walked back into the empty house.

This is the house that I was raised in. My parents bought this house in 1950. After Mom died, my son and his family moved here. They have been living here for about two years.

Even a year ago I would not have been able to stay here. Too many memories, too much sadness about my parents. It was very difficult to be here, in the house, without memories flooding into my heart and mind. 
Now, it's different. 
Grief is a odd thing, isn't it? Life goes on. The sadness lessens and now the old house has the laughter of my grandchildren in it. This laughter becomes the magic that brings change and chases away the scary remains of a house filled with 50 years of memories.
It's OK now. It's the way that it should be.
Now, my son's family will write their own story, here, and I will be a part of it again.


Lizzy and I would wait for them to return.

 Lizzy and I would "hold down the fort". It's only one week.
What could possibly go wrong?..... 

Memories of My Mother

**********************

The best conversations with mothers always take place in silence, when only the heart speaks.  ~Carrie Latet

I miss you Mom.

Now, you are in my heart.

A Memory of Conversation

"Mama, can I pick the wildflowers?

"Yes dear. But remember to only pick the flower and not the root, so the plant can grow again next Spring."
" OK Mama? Do they have  names?"

"Yes they do....

 This one, with the pretty leaf is called a Common Henbit. It's from the mint family."
"Flowers have families?"
"Oh yes, dear. The other little pink flower is called a Shooting Star. It's from the Primrose family."Do you see why they call it a shooting star?"
"Uh huh. It looks like a shooting star that we saw that night when we stayed outside after dark and sat on the lawn watching the sky. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember."
"I will bring you a whole bunch of flowers tomorrow Mama."
"That would be very nice. Just remember. No roots and no Poppies. They are protected."
"What's protected mean?"
"You are protected, sweetie. It means that someone is taking care of you so that you are safe from harm."
"You mean like someone pulling me away without my root?"
"Something like that."
"Do the flowers have a mother?"
"Yes. Her name is Mother Nature. She makes the wildflowers."
"That's nice. I hope I meet her someday because she makes lots of beautiful flowers,"
"Yes, she does dear...

...let's go in the house and find a little pitcher to put them in."
"OK. Can I choose the pitcher I like best?"
"You sure can."
"I love these flowers, Mama. It's nice that they have a mom too."
"Yes, it is. It really is."

The Net of my Memory

The Gift

Time wants to show you a different country.
It's the one that your life conceals,
the one waiting outside when curtains are drawn,
 the one Grandmother hinted at
 in her crochet design,
the one almost found
over at the edge of the music,
after the sermon.

It's the way life is,
and you have it, a few years given.
You get killed now and then,
violated in various ways.
(And sometimes it's turn about.)
You get tired of that. Long-suffering,
 you wait and pray, and maybe good things come
- maybe the hurt slackens
and you hardly feel it any more.
You have a breath without pain.
It is called happiness.

It's a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you've been
 and how people and weather treated you.
 It's a country where you already are,
 bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air,
calling,every morning,
 "Here, take it, it's yours."

~ William Stafford ~
1914-1993

(The photos are of my mother, father and myself around 1947 at Harbor Gate housing in Richmond, California.)

I love this poem. I hope someone "gets" this poem like I did. Please leave your thoughts even if you don't usually comment. I would like to hear what others have to say about this poet and THIS poem. William Stafford was an American and a contemporary of my parents. He was born the same year that my father was.

Two Little Girls with Blond Hair

Slugs Under the Stepping Stones of Memory

The summer before I went into the 6th grade, in Pleasant Hill, CA., the school district had so many new families moving into the area that they decided to build a new elementary school. They tore out an old walnut orchard and transformed the empty acres into a new school.... and it was right down at the end of the street from where I lived. They called it Strandwood. The year was 1956.
This last weekend I walked my grandchildren back down to this school and the memories came flooding back. The above collage has three photos with the word "here" on each one. Each word represents a different memory.
The top photo is the front of the school. It's much prettier than it was that first year. We had no trees, hedges or gardens then. But it was a brand new school and we were the FIRST GRADUATING CLASS. All of the 6th graders were big important students. We were the oldest and the "big deals" for the year. We only stayed for one year and them moved on to Pleasant Hill Junior High School a few miles away.... but for one shinning school year we were the "alpha" kids.
Where you see the word "here" in the top photo is the spot where a couple of friends and I ( the summer before the school opened ) climbed onto the roof and down through a skylight into the school office. We thought we were really cool until we looked around and saw the new Principal standing in the doorway of his office. He was so mad at us. He gave us a long speech about breaking and entering, told us that we would probably have to go to the police department and took our names and phone numbers. I remember trying not to cry in front of my friends.
Now, mind you, I was a "good" girl and this wasn't something that I had ever done before. I was so scared that I could hardly breath. He told us that he wouldn't call the police but that we were to go home and he would be calling each of our parents that afternoon. He must have known how scared we were because he actually never called any of our parents. I sweat bullets for a week waiting for that phone call. It was all the punishment I needed. Never again, no matter who I was trying to impress, did I do anything like that and years later( I mean many YEARS later.. probably like 3 years ago) I told my Mom what had happen. She laughed and said that, knowing me, waiting for the principal to call was probably punishment enough. As I have said before, I have had this "closet Catholic" guilt thing going on inside of me my whole entire life. The day school started I was hoping that I wouldn't run into the Principal in the hallway. I didn't want him to be reminded to call our parents. I still think he got too busy or lost the list with the phone numbers. I still think about it.
The second "here" on the right is a photo of the main hallway and in the distance, the cafeteria. I got to serve lunch there and polished my domestic skills cleaning the tables afterwords. They gave me a free lunch for this effort and sometimes an extra ice cream or cookie.
I was also the third ghost in Dickens, A Christmas Carol. that year. I wore a huge black cape with a hood and showed Scrooge the future, while pointed with my finger. No words. It was an easy part and my first stage appearance. I was hooked for life. I went on to a short illustrious career in high school as an ACTRESS.
The third "here" is the best one. This is where, without flowers, trees or air conditioning units, I received my first kiss from a boy. Yes, it was exciting and wonderful. I'm sure we were in love. I just don't remember his name or what he looked like...., but I remember where it happen. "HERE" marks the spot.
So now, some 54 years later, I'm here with my grandchildren....



watching them play on the "new" playground. Gone is the wood sided, bark filled area with metal equipment that tested your ability to climb the highest, balance the best and swing the longest. Oh! I guess these new and softer playgrounds do the same thing. They are definitely more colorful. The equipment is different but the children are similar, each with his own skills and abilities. Each challenging themselves to be the best. I love the shadows on the green (and padded, like the local gym) fake grass. That could be me below the Bean. The ghost of years past. The outline of a child is always similar, in a way.The memory dims but the childhood continues. My memories will fade. His will develop, in the same place, only differently.
Little Bean is just starting to build his story. Hopefully my photos will remind him of this sunny day, walking with his Noni, to the school playground where she tells them the stories of long ago..., of walnut orchards and mustard grass in the meadow.., of an old oak tree on the hill behind the school and running up that hill so fast that she thought her lungs would burst. Too many memories to count. So many memories...

And then they discovered the slugs under the stepping stones. They met another little boy and it became a "boys will be boys" quest to find the most slugs.
We found a bottle with an orange cap. We, carefully, brought home 15 or 16 slugs and 2 "rolly pollies". The Bean carried his in his shirt. Yep! It was a record day.


My photos did not show up with this post. I was only able to retrieve the first one so I will do a separate post with the two photos that are missing. I'm beginning to think that that blogging/ computer "fates" have an issue with me lately.