Girlfriends on the old buffet and the pleasures of grown sons.

The old buffet were I had the "German" Christmas tree sitting, has accumulated some very special items on top of it over the last few months.
 I  have collected many things on this buffet from before my trip to Germany and before Christmas, mixed with other wonderful reminders of two months that went by far too fast.

There is a big box of Italian Torrone, with little boxes of assorted almond candy inside.

A tradition, started by my friend Dawn, when she found this candy (a staple of my childhood at Christmas) online and decided that I needed to have a box sent to me every year for my birthday.
Next to the candy, leaning against the lamp on one end of the buffet, is a beautiful birthday card and letter from my friend "D" in Montana, who sent me this card filled with photos of her trip to the Festival of the Cranes at the Basque Sanctuary in New Mexico.

She wrote about her adventure at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. How she and her husband would go to the ponds early in the morning to photograph these magnificent  Cranes...how cold it was... the photo classes that she took and how excited she was to be so close to these birds. I live vicariously through these letters and photos.
Then, there is a small felted bird on the other end of the buffet. It's yellow and sits on a spool of thread.

A creation from the friend who made the felted christmas trees for me. She added this cute little bird to brighten up the holidays "just because" and there it sits lifting the spirits of all who see it.
My sister was here for a few days last week and we had so much fun. Our creativity had no bounds. We made flowers out of Raley's paper grocery bags.

And decorated some old bottles. (She took hers home before I got a picture of it.) It was beautiful.
Mine was a small almond extract bottle. You can see the bottle on the bottom corner where I didn't cover it completely.

The metal lid was covered with a wood epoxy clay that I still need to paint and finish. Her shawl is sea shells and her hair is an old bunch of embroidery thread. The rest is lace, fabric and other things that were glued on with Mod Podge and stuck on with a glue gun.

The back of the bottle has a wolf hiding in a small piece of felt and feathers, under a shell. It is waiting behind her. Protecting her... or laying in wait for her... I'm not sure. It represents the unknown fear we carry around with us. It's the first altered bottle I've ever made. Sis did a larger one. It was beautiful. We had so much fun with this. The Prospector was gone for a few days so we had the house to ourselves.

The buffet is filled with these things that mean so much... from friends that always share their lives and their hearts with me. These friends give me courage to try... to create... to push myself beyond my limits.
Being creative is an extension of yourself. Giving... when you know that someone loves a certain candy that holds memories. Sharing... a brave life of adventure and beauty. Sending a small felted bird that wasn't ordered but came as an "extra"...just because. Sis, showing her older sister how to create something beautiful out of the ordinary... These are real gifts.
When my friend "C (who I just helped move into the home of her dreams) knew that I was nervous about my plane flight to Germany she created this for me.

A card made, with love, to celebrate and send me off with on an airline called "Serenity" and a small zippered container with a good luck token attached... a place to keep my jewelry, money, small items, etc, that would all make me feel more secure about my upcoming trip.

I carried this with me... the little plane token was inside. In my bleakest moments this bright little bag lifted my spirits and helped me through my first trip to Europe.

Friends are gifts that give you courage, ideas, love... and part of themselves. What a perfectly sympathetic relationship it can be.
My mother's old buffet is filled with an accumulation of things that are important to me... that represent the connections of friendship. I'm a lucky woman.
*****************

Our oldest son spent the weekend with us.We love it when he comes up here. He just lost his old cat, Lucky, and needed to distance himself from the sadness of losing a longtime pet.
We took walks, talked, laughed and had a really good visit.
He helped me with some computer glitches and  then he went with me to buy the latest, coolest electronic device on the market.

It's the Nexus 7 android tablet.

 It's my new Google, "Farmlady finally arrives in the 21st century", tablet... with a stylish magnetic case

 and all the computer  "apps",  email, web browsing and  video chatting that I will ever need... on my lap... in the comfort of a recliner, outside on the porch, on a trip or in a hotel. I am comfortably connected.
And I now have WiFi. in my home as well. My house is now a "hot spot" like Starbucks and MacDonalds. Wow! WIFI!  I don't know what I would do without a computer genius for a son. He helped me start and hook up everything... and gave his mother a little *Nexus 7* 101.
All we did was feed him. Amazing.
Thanks son.



 

She Who Seeks Snow

My oldest son has been here for the weekend. The time together is wonderful but never long enough.  He came up Friday night and left this morning. It was a good visit.

Yesterday, at breakfast,, we were talking about SNOW and how we hadn't had any this year except for a light dusting that melted quickly. "M", our son, said "Why don't we take a drive up into the mountains and find some?" The Prospector and I agreed that this was a great idea.
We packed some warm clothing, took the four wheel drive Toyota and headed out. We drove up highway 88 through Pine Grove and Pioneer. Right around Buckhorn we started seeing snow under the trees.
By the time we got up to Mace Meadows we were really getting into the heavy white stuff. It was beautiful...

We passed Cooks Station...

And on up into the Eldorado National Forest.

We finally got to the turn off for Lower Bear Reservoir but realized that the road down into the campground was not being maintained. The signs said it all...

And this...

So we went back out to the highway and continued on to Silver Lake. If you didn't know there was a lake there you would never have guessed. It looked like a huge meadow filled with snow.

There were some people out there with snowshoes walking across the lake. 

It was so lovely. I wish we could have been out there too.

We finally climbed up and drove through the Carson Spur which is an avalanche area of the pass that makes me hold my breath every time. It's almost easier in the winter because you can't see the distance down into the wilderness canyon with snow on the sides of the road. Last week, on the news, they showed this section of the road and Caltrans had opened a very small one lane section of the highway for traffic to get through. Only one way traffic was allowed at a time. We were more fortunate. It was cleared for two lane traffic and because it was around noon, there was no ice. I still don't like this stretch of highway. It makes me nervous and I tell everyone not to talk or the vibrations might start an avalanche. Yes, I'm a big baby about this but if you saw this place you would understand. IT'S REALLY SCARY!! I don't even understand why someone put a ROAD way up here. It's crazy.

Finally we reached our destination.

KIRKWOOD RESORT. This is where we all learned to ski about 30 years ago.  The boys were about 11 and 16 years old then. It was raining so hard we almost decided not to go. We got up at 4:00 a.m. and joined a caravan of friends from the neighborhood. It was raining so hard that morning and we knew that it would be snowing heavily up in the mountains, but we went anyway.
Our next door neighbor had promised he would make skiers out of all of us. He did.
It was the most amazing thing I have ever done. Going up on a ski lift in a snow storm was like nothing else in this rather normal life of mine. There was no other reason that anyone would have been out there in that kind of weather than to ski. It was an experience I have never had since. I can remember thinking, as I rode up on the ski lift, that this was one of those moments that would never be forgotten and I can still feel the snow blowing across my face and the power of mother nature. It was a life changing experience until I had to get off the ski lift gracefully. I didn't. I fell. But my neighbor and the Prospector were waiting for me and picked me up and so the lessons on the "bunny slope" began.
We went up there to ski once or twice after that. We took the boys to other ski resorts, but usually they skied and we watched. I was getting very tired all the time and didn't feel like doing anything that required as much energy as this. It was a year later that I found out, at 39 years of age, that I had cancer.
I don't talk about it much. It was a life changing year in my life but the experience of learning to ski in a snowstorm at Kirkwood will forever be captured in my memory. It made me fight harder and survive a year of what I called "living dangerously". It was a year of being braver than I had ever been before. Skiing made me understand that I could learn how to survive.... even in a "snowstorm".
I don't have a great desire to ski now. I would probably kill myself just getting to the ski lift or putting on all the equipment.It's a sport for folks a lot younger than me. But in my heart, when I watched the skiers coming down the slopes yesterday, I wanted to be up there. I wanted that feeling again... The cold, the skill required, and the excitement that you feel. It's a wonderful place to be and I will always remember the joy of accomplishment when I finally came down an intermediate slope all by myself. It gave me courage that I took into the difficult years ahead.

***************
So, moving on....

We parked, and walked around the amazing outdoor venue. It was much different that years ago. Bigger, with a lot more stores and restaurants. More noise, more advertising.... Lots of people sitting, with or without someone, looking at their i phones and not at the beautiful scenery.
We found the bathrooms, bought some hot chocolate, took pictures and watched people. Most everyone was having a great time.

Wearing funny hats...

Of course I would notice a KNITTED hat like this! Isn't it amazing?

There were lots of signs telling you what to do and where to go. There were signs about the history of this place and about the pioneers that came through here on their way to the dream that was called California.
It made me kind of proud that I'm a native daughter.
There was a little boy that reminded me of my youngest son, when he was little.

This little man was making a huge snowball on top of a hill. He told us to "Watch out." and then he pushed it over the snowbank and it crashed on the walk below. I'm glad he said something because it was a BIG snowball.

And another boy who reminded me of "M" when he was young. Lot's of memories here it seems.
 Memories of a beautiful place....

Where the mountain peaks never change...

and the slopes still call folks to come and be at one with them.... to learn something about yourself and what you're made of.

Memories of going where I had never gone before.

We left Kirkwood and headed back down into the foothills before the coming rain and snow that was predicted by night fall. The clouds looked ominous. We drove through the Carson Spur again.

and as we descended, the snow reduced in volume as the elevation signs went from 8000 ft to 7000 ft.... down to 6000 ft. and then 5000 ft., where the sun was trying to come through the clouds..

and a small pine tree said "Come back again."

We drove back to Jackson, picked up the mail on the highway and drove down our lovely river road. I made big beef burritos for dinner..... and brownies with ice cream for dessert.

********************
"M" left this morning. We will miss him. He lives in Oakland and is a very busy man, with a job that keeps him working hard.  I'm so glad that he came up here this weekend. He left relaxed and rested... and with some brownies.
I'm always happy when my family comes to visit. My children come with their own set of  memories and everything that they remember is not always the same as mine, but life goes forward and that's as it should be. They are building their own memories.... their own lives.
We are proud parents. We were not perfect but we did our best and we have two sons that have become wonderful human beings..... who (like their mother) love computers, poetry, a good book, good food chocolate and SNOW.
Life is sure good sometimes....

An Evening With my, um...., my Son.

DISCLAIMER: I have two sons whom I love very much but..., they are getting too old to be mine. They are 41 and 36 yrs and, in order to maintain my dignity, I'm going to have to disown them. I can't see how I can keep up the facade of being, Oh, lets say 55...,or maybe 57 for the next few years and let them get any older. What's a woman to do when those cute little babies grow up and start making me look like I'm a ..., a grandmother.., an old lady. I know, of course, that I am. I guess I will just have to bite the bullet and accept what has happen.

So, my point is..., I don't know who this young man in the pictures is. He looks like he could be related to me but he's way to old to be my son. Anyway, I went to see this guy last Saturday....,who owns this little house..., in the Oakland hills....
All right, I can't tell this story without pride of ownership. So..., this "guy" is my son.He's my oldest and he lives in Oakland, California in a little old house that has survived all the earthquakes the Bay Area had to offer except the big 1906 disaster. It was built in 1911. We can't find any information on it but we think it was a caretakers cottage on a large estate or a summer cabin for someone who wanted to get away from the crowds and fog of the lower bay. This home is the oldest on the street and the only bathroom in the house is out on the back porch, so we assume that ,originally, there was no bathroom. I just love this little house. It is a work in progress and the work has begun.

My son "M" has lived here for about 3 or 4 years and saved his money until he could start renovating. He had to do some foundation work and now he is adding a new bedroom and redoing the bathroom. He will have a lot more room and a sliding door out to the backyard, and eventually a deck, under the trees. I added the two bottom photos for good reason. The close up of the foundation is to show the earthquake retrofit bolts which make his parents feel much better about the fact that he is only a few blocks from the Hayward Fault and a few miles from the San Andreas Fault. The last photo is of an Amaryllis or naked lady, that is growing in his backyard. It's so beautiful! There are roses and other flowers that someone planted a long time ago. They must have loved gardening. When everything is cleaned up and the work on the house is done, I will prune and redo the garden for "M" so he can enjoy his new view.

After he showed me the new addition and I took all my pictures we went out to dinner. We ate at an Italian restorante called Marzano's . I think it was on Park Ave. We had pizza , salad and wine. Very good food! Then we drove over to St. Margaret Mary's Catholic church. This is my son's church and I wanted to take some pictures. The doors were locked..., a sign of the times in cities, I guess. So, we drove over to St Jarlath's and it was open. We met the priest and he gave us a tour. He told us all about it's history and explained who each saint was in every glass window. In a little side chapel that felt just right we lit a candle for Mom. We sat down for a few minutes and "M" said the Lords Prayer in Latin and English. I felt like Mom had been waiting for us. Her daughter and grandson said goodbye to her as the Mother Mary and her child looked on. Sometimes things happen that are too special for words.., so I will stop. Words just get in the way.

Later we went down to a gelato(Italian ice cream) store near the restored Grand Lake Theater (I went to the movies here as a child.) where my son and I had the best gelato I've ever tasted. We drove back to his house, said our goodbye's and I drove back through the tunnel to my sister's house in Lafayette. What a nice evening it was. I recommend spending some time with your grown children, even if they make you feel older than you are. You spend so many years being "Mommy", it's a pleasure, and a reward, to be their friend too.

My Son's Big "Little" Project

A few years ago my oldest son bought a very little house in the upper Laurel district of Oakland, California. We were surprised that he bought a house, as opposed to a condo, loft or co-op, but "M" found this little house, bought it and moved in. We can't find any history on the place but we know that it was built in 1910; 4 years after the Big Earthquake of 1906 that left the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Area in ruins. He thinks that this house might have been a caretakers cottage on a large ranch or a summer cabin for someone who could afford to have a second home in the lovely hills above the town of Oakland. He may never know for sure why someone built such a small house but it's perfect for him.
Because it's so old, it now needs complete reconstruction. So, "M" has begun with a new foundation, as the old one is crumbling and dangerous. It needs to be completely replaced. He will add a new bedroom and a full bath on to the back of the house . I can't wait for him to get all the outside work done , so I can help him PAINT and DECORATE the inside.
I can hear "M" now..."Just remember Mom, it's a "man cave" not a summer cottage for company." Oh my!..., so when I went to see him on Sunday afternoon, I walked through the house with my mouth closed, but I was taking mental notes on what we can do to make this little place just wonderful. No lace, no pink pillows and no white wicker? Nope..., but classic colors and mission style furniture? Yes, yes, and maybe there will be tongue and groove wood floors under all that old linoleum flooring that will be repairable...., and..., and..., so many ideas. "Patience Mom, Patience." So, I went out into the backyard and pruned some roses, and after I took some pictures for his Dad we went out to dinner.....

This is Spettro's on Lakeshore Ave. "M" took me there for dinner. The restaurant is charming and my Salmon with Mango Salsa was to die for. If you live anywhere close by, check this place out. It's worth it!
Thanks for dinner, sweetheart. I enjoyed the evening. See you again soon. Love, Mom

The Bean and his Daddy came to visit

We got a phone call early yesterday. It was our son, down in Elk Grove, and he wanted to know if he and the Bean could come up for the day and visit. Mommy and Baby Bean were going to do some intensive potty training and wanted a little less activity around the house. Of course, I said "Come on up."
When they arrived, after the hugs and kisses, the Bean said he wanted to go down to the "veg'able garden" and pick the "ta-matos". "Oh Bean", I said, "The tomatoes are just little plants right now. They don't have tomatoes on them yet." He thought about this and said..." Well, Noni, we can go see. Do they need water?"
Then I remembered the little gourd seedlings that I hadn't finished planting and asked him if he wanted to help me plant them. "OK." he said. ( He's a man of few words, like his father. I love this.)
We got the little gourd seedlings and a couple of "diggers", the hose and MY CAMERA.
"Smile Bean". and he did. I took a few pictures and then (top right)..., the LOOK; as if to say..., Enough with the camera, Noni. I'm waiting to dig and plant stuff.
So I handed the camera to my son and the Bean and I planted the little seedlings.

..., and then came the best part: WATER. If there was one thing in this world that little boys agree on, it would be that water and dirt are the most wonderful combination in the whole world. My grandson is a MUD connoisseur, a prodigy of the art of blending and mixing. Give him a spot of dirt and some water and this boy is in his element.
"Did you water each little plant, Bean?"..., "Yes." he says. "I need to wash my fingers first. " I watch him play, with total attention to the task... " Be sure each plant gets soaked really good."... "OK." he says. Then the hand goes into the mud and more water is added. He never looks up. He is one with the mud. My DNA, my mothers DNA and my grandmother too have found a host in this grandchild of mine. We will work on the finer points.

I want you to look at the position that he's in. It's 90 degrees, no shade anywhere nearby, I'm sweating like a racehorse and sitting down on the edge of the raised vegetable bed looking at this little boy..., squatting ON his feet, rear end NOT touching the ground, knees up to his chin.., watering and playing for at least 15 minutes. Try that position, folks... Bet ya can't do it.
What happens to our agility? When did the squatting stop? Reality hit hard: No more camping without a porta potty. Squatting in the woods is gone forever. I might fall backwards and never get up. The mental picture was ugly. Where was I going with this......
It was just a moment of stark reality. a vision of how far I am from the agility of my childhood. It just came and went in a split second. I'm OK now. I'm older than yesterday, but I'm OK... Crap!

Tomorrow: The Bean in Bounce World.

Tarantulas

Tarantulas on the Lifebuoy
BY THOMAS LUX

For some semitropical reason
when the rains fall relentlessly they fall
into swimming pools, these otherwise
bright and scary arachnids.
They can swim a little,
but not for long
and they can’t climb the ladder out.
They usually drown—
but if you want their favor,
if you believe there is justice,
a reward for not loving
the death of ugly
and even dangerous (the eel, hog snake, rats) creatures,
if you believe these things,
then you would leave a lifebuoy or two
in your swimming pool at night.
And in the morning
you would haul ashore
the huddled, hairy survivors
and escort them back to the bush,
and know, be assured that at least
these saved, as individuals,
would not turn up again
someday in your hat, drawer,
or the tangled underworld of your socks,
and that even— when your belief in justice
merges with your belief in dreams—
they may tell the others
in a sign language
four times as subtle and
complicated as man’s
that you are good,
that you love them,
that you would save them again.

My youngest son left this poem in my email as a response to my "Trust" post. He knows me well. This poem speaks to my very soul.
My youngest son is a poet and a visionary. He has always understood the nuances of human behavior and ,it seems, the affinity of his mother to the natural world.
Thank you for the wonderful poem, Jess.

Worth remembering

I said that I wouldn't make a big thing of my dad's passing, one year ago today, but I have altered my thinking about this just a bit.

My youngest son gave me a poem about the day we spread Dad's ashes in San Francisco Bay and I thought that I would honor him today with his grandson's poem.



THE SPREADING
As we wait on a wall of sea breeze,
pelicans fly in formation above the water,
and mother remembers that, when in Aptos,
they called these pelicans The Mafia.


All the while, families wait with guarded cargo,
wait, squinting through the blanched acrylic windows.
at the bridge that paints a ruddy-orange matrix,
stroked against the grey morning sky, and

carnations in hand to shed as stirring crops,
we shore up our own exact, tender words
-flowers with which the barren is faced-
as we wait on a wall of sea breeze,

to release his "request" into the water;
a fixture of colors in the many-eyed sea,
like trillions of glimmering peacock feathers.
A bodily belonging on the slopes of the bay.

"Speak to us of children"

This weekend our two boys came up to celebrate their birthdays. They are five years apart, but their birthdays are only 3 days from each another. Since we couldn't get together in a couple of weeks, on their birthdays, we decided to celebrate early. One will be 40 yrs. old and the other 35 yrs. So... that means that their Dad and I are...., um.... old. How does this happen? It seems like just yesterday that we watched them graduate from College. Where did all those years go? Those little boy years of not quite knowing what you're doing, but acting like you do. The years of sickness in the middle of the night, the tooth farie and little league. At some point you stop washing their little bodies in the bath tub and they start taking showers. That happens about the same time that they stop talking in complete sentences: Just yes/no answers and "Oh Mom." Could it have been so long ago that our youngest came home, in tears, because someone told him there wasn't any Santa Claus?...., and the reality, on his sad little face, that this also meant there must be no Easter Bunny either. That's when I started wondering about the wisdom of adults.

Now they're the adults. The oldest is head of the computer support for a large university in the bay area and the youngest is a manager for a health insurance company near Sacramento. We're so proud of them.

Now I have two grandchildren to love and play with. It's almost like "going back", only not as much work. It's way more fun to be "Noni and Papa", and we get to babysit any time we want to

and then......., take a nap.



I'm reminded of THE PROPHET by Kahlil Gibran



Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, and

yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the

house of tomarrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children, as living arrows are sent forth.



....there is more, but this will do.