Wordless Wednesday: Still Life with carrot

Black-crowned Night-Heron

Last week when my son and I went into downtown Oakland after dinner, we parked behind the Grand Lake theater next to a Kentucky Fried Chicken Restaurant. As we got out of the car, I noticed a bird on top of the truck behind us. At first I thought that it was a fake bird because it didn't move; not a feather.

It was a large bird with beautiful markings and seemed to be unconcerned with us, or the traffic, or anything else going on around it. I knew it was real when it turned it's head as I walked closer. Now it was watching me and I kept taking pictures, taking a step closer each time I snapped a shot. My son kept saying, "Mom, lets go." but I kept telling him "Just a minute." and continued to take pictures.
This is, what I would call, a nicer area of Oakland. It's close to Lake Merritt and has some beautiful homes and apartments around the lake, but I would not be down on this street at night. There were some characters walking around that made me less than comfortable. Part of it is that I have been away from the city for way too long and I'm never in my comfort zone when I'm in any town that's larger than a bread basket. I think these birds knew this.

This photo is why I love photography, especially digital. You can take 50 photos..., 100 photos and count on getting a real beautiful one out of all of them. I think I took 25 shots of this bird to get this one wonderful picture. I was standing on the curb next to the truck, not 4 or 5 feet from this bird when I took the picture and he never even got fidgety.
What is interesting is that there were probably 50 of these birds on this corner. Some lined up on the telephone wires above KFC. These are not dumb birds. They know where the good, greasy food is and they don't have to watch their weight.
This is a young Heron. I'll bet his mommy was somewhere close by. We walked to the Gelato shop feeling like we were in the Hitchcock movie called The Birds. Hoping that they all would stay up there on the buildings and telephone lines and not swoop down on us to take our ice cream cones away. They didn't. Guess they were waiting for someone with a bag of chicken.

Isn't this just a beautiful bird?

The Black-crowned Night Heron (or just Night Heron in Eurasia), (Nycticorax nycticorax) is a medium-sized Heron. The herons are wading birds in the Ardeidae family. Some are called egrets or bitterns instead of herons. They have a black crown and back with the remainder of the body white or grey, red eyes, and short yellow legs. Young birds are brown, flecked with white and grey. These are short-necked and stout herons.breeding habitat is fresh and salt-water.

Lake Merritt is a focal point in Oakland, Ca. A unique fresh and salt-water lake, the largest such lake located within an urban area consisting of 3.4 miles around the circumference of the lake, covering 155 acres of land. The depth of Lake Merritt varies upon how much water is allowed to filter in from the Estuary and upon rain water intake.

Wishing on a Poem

This Morning I Watched the Deer

This morning I watched the deer
with beautiful lips touching the tips
of the cranberries, setting their hooves down
in the dampness carelessly, isn't it after all
the carpet of their house, their home, whose roof
is the sky?

Why, then, was I suddenly miserable?


Well, this is nothing much.
This is the heaviness of the body watching the swallows
gliding just under that roof.


This is the wish that the deer would not lift their heads
and leap away, leaving me there alone.
This is the wish to touch their faces, their brown wrists---
to sing some sparkling poem into
the folds of their ears,


then walk with them,
over the hills
and over the hills

and into the impossible trees.

~Mary Oliver~

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.

Stresses and Life's Little Irritations

Sometimes you're just walking around having a pretty good day when all of a sudden some little thing comes along and the irritation starts: A phone call that you don't want to answer; an unexpected guest arrives, or the check book doesn't balance. You know what I mean. It's just there and no matter how small it is, it's just one more thing ..., and your arthritis is flaring up..., and you don't want to deal with it.

Then, the "little thing" gets a little bigger and it bites your tail. Someone says something that hurts you or the bank calls because you are overdrawn. Now, you are really annoyed and you start growling.....

That's when you go for a long walk ...,and you realize that no one has a leash on you because your older and trusted ( and, maybe, the arthritis keeps you from running away), so you really have much more freedom than you thought you had and the "little irritation" is still there but someone has it on a leash, for a while, because it is too immature to just run free. Now, for a while, you can walk and think and be in the moment..., smelling all the joys and curiosities of life. In this wonderful moment you are a being of freedom and choice. The past is over. The future is..., well.., out there and it's a mystery. Life is life. It's happening now. Feel the ground under your paws and when you get back to the protected garden you can rest. Take a walk. Smell the earth. If it stinks, smell it anyway. If it bites you, bite back..., (without your teeth if possible), push it away..., and if there is pain, embrace it and understand it. Then dig a hole and bury it or..., accept it with all your heart. Start again and keep trying....

Life is life. Do what you can.

Wordless Wednesday: Lighting a Candle for Mom.

Freckles and the Figs

We are going to have a bumper crop of figs this year thanks to Freckles. Our charming goat with the spotted ears has been determined , as all goats are, to get his head through the fence as far as he can and prune one side of our fig tree for us. He not only has beautiful ears but he has a very long , skinny neck and when he is down in the pasture next to the vegetable garden, he takes stretching to a whole new level.
This is Freckles at the fence near the goat house. This fence is what I should have along the garden area because it doesn't move. Freckles sees the green leaves of the fig tree and he gets a glint in his eyes, puts his whole body against the fence, then his head goes through and he leans as far as he can, pushing with his hind feet. When an almost 125 lb. goat, who is determined to have some tasty fig leaves, wants what he sees, there are few fences that will keep him from his self appointed task.

So, on the east side of my wonderful fig tree I have figs growing right out on the end of the branches and why you ask? Because that's exactly the distance that Freckles pruned the branches to. Then the little figs started growing and the fence was reinforced so Freckles couldn't lean through . Well, look at this tree. It's filled with figs. I've never had so many figs on this tree before.
So I'm thinking that Goat Pruning, with VERY controlled and monitored framework, might just be a new business we could patent.Of course Frecks will think that this was his idea in the first place and that he should get all the credit. That's how goats ruminate (I mean think) ya know. Guess I'll have to have a talk with him and see what he thinks...., What? You don't talk to your animals? Are you crazy?

I'm going down to the Bay Area until Tuesday or Wednesday. Sis and I have some business to attend to and I'm going to see my oldest son's new bedroom addition to his house in Oakland and have dinner with him. Now the fun begins with his little house. See you soon.

Vintage Thursday: Mom's baby pictures

These are three photos of my Mother when she was a small child. The one above was taken on the Ranch in Napa, CA. at 1913 Silverado Trail, just outside of town on the Trancas Creek. She was probably about a year old. That's my great grandma in the background.
Mom and her brother, sister and parents lived in Berkeley but spent a lot of time at the Ranch. Mom's father died when she was 5 years old and her mother brought them back to the Ranch to live. Her mother(my grandmother) went to work as a cook at the State Hospital in Imola, south of Napa and the extended family all helped raise the children.

Mom was always ready to care for someone or something as evident in the photo above ,taken around 1920, as she watches over her stuffed dog, bear and dolly. Looks like there was a party going on...., she always loved a party.

I love this photo. It's so Mom. The stance, the Maryjane's with socks rolled over just so and the hat..., set back on her head so the sun lights her face...,and that smile, oh that wonderful smile. She was beautiful then and she was beautiful throughout her whole life. The beauty was from within..., it was a goodness and a love of life that came through in everything that she did.
I wish I had known that little girl, but I'm so thankful that I knew the woman and that she was our Mom. My sister and I were so very lucky to be her daughters.

Please check in at Colorado Lady's blog for more "vintage" lovely things.

What to do with all that Zucchini

This is a great, basic Zucchini recipe. The prospector found it in the magazine section of our newspaper. There is a bit of preparation with cutting , grating and shredding but once you get it together and clean up the mess, it can be refrigerated and cooked later and that's the kind of dinner I like. If you live in a hot climate, cook it in the morning and serve it, cold, later in the day.

This is a dinner in itself. You can add a pork chop or some chicken for dinner but it's not necessary because this is a very filling dish. If you have it for lunch or dinner with a salad, you will have a really good meal. The recipe is very easy. I did make a few changes though. I rubbed the softened butter into the cracker crumbs instead of just "dotting" the butter on top of the crumbs. It was easier to pat into the baking dish and the butter taste was distributed better throughout the dish. I also use a release spray, like Pam, on the baking dish before pressing the crumbs into it. If you use an 8 by 8 in. pan the cooking time will be longer.

It's a pretty casserole. great for guests..., and delicious. What more can I say except, give it a try.... It also uses some of those amazingly, prolific Zucchini that are growing, like Topsy, in the garden at night. I swear they grow two or three inches while we're sleeping. This dish is best when warm, but we had left-overs the next day and it was good cold too.
This dish goes into my box of "good recipes". Next time I want to try some other spices or different crumbs and maybe some Monterey Jack cheese instead of cheddar. This is an adaptable recipe. The options are up to you. Enjoy!

The wild blackberries are ripening up down near the river. I can taste that pie already...

State of Being..., Here

"Wherever you are, be there totally.
If you find your here and now intolerable
and it makes you unhappy,

you have three options:

remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally" -eckhart tolle-

Being There

When I was about 10 years old a little girl came into my life. She lived down at the end of the street with her Mom and grandparents. She was a wild child, a free spirit and the spark of life to my quieter, more passive personality. She became my very best friend in all the world. I will call her "D".
At 13, when "D" 's Mother remarried, she had to leave and travel the world because of her new father's job. I saw her off at the San Francisco Airport every year with solemn promises to write and see each other again the following summer..., and that we did. She wrote about Holland, American schools, new boyfriends, wonderful adventures and her new life. I wrote her and told her about Junior High School, new boyfriends and life in Pleasant Hill, California.
Every summer "D" would come back to her grandparents house. I would wait for a phone call , hear her voice and then run to the end of the street to see her.
We would spend everyday talking about her adventures. She would show me wonderful new things that I had never heard about. When she came back ,one summer, from Kuwait in Saudi Arabia she brought "Cous-cous" in a bag and showed me how to make it edible. She had clothing that was so "European" and then...., there would always be something for me. She never forgot to bring me some beautiful thing from some interesting place in the world.
We wrote letters for 5 more years and every summer we would spend our wonderful, fragile time together sleeping in the backyard, sharing boyfriends, skinny dipping in her grandparents backyard pool and laughing our way through the hot summers of our teenage years.
My Mother became her "Summer Mom" and she became another child in our house. She still lived at her grandparents house most of the time but she loved being at our home.

"D" graduated from an air force base school in Northern Africa and returned to the U.S. We started college, got married and she went back east for a few years, then moved to Montana, became a nurse and stayed in the Big Sky state never traveling to another country again.
The story is long, the distance has always been far and the visits few, but the bond we forged so long ago has never been broken. We have stayed connected all these years and when she knew that Mom was dying ..., she came.

She drove from Montana, hoping to get here before Mom passed but didn't make it . I'm sorry she wasn't able to see Mom and talk to her. Mom knew she was coming and looked forward to seeing her other "daughter". There are things in life that just don't happen the way you want them to. It's sad but true. But, there was so much more.
"D" stayed for a week. She cried with us and laughed with us. She helped bring all of Mom's things home in her truck. She listened, gave comfort and told us things about our family that even we had forgotten. . She became a support system of love and humor..., and wisdom. My sister has always known that "D" was part of this family in so many ways. There are blessings that you just don't see in your life and then they arrive with arms open and you don't question them.
My friend was always there; in the summers of my childhood, in letters from around the world, playing in creeks and old oak trees and under a white parachute that bellowed on a green lawn in her grandparents yard (she knows what I mean)..., and she was there last week because she is my friend and we love each other.

She was there.
















She came home with me. Gave an old friend(the Prospector) a big hug; Met Carl for the first time. Fell in love with him and he returned the affection. and she settled in for a few days . She got to met the goats and Annibel, listen to the Coyote and Fox at night and take photos of bumblebees with me..., and sit on the porch. We talked and I cried; and she was there.....
We had two lovely days and then the familiar leaving. It would be a long drive back to Montana and her hubby that waited, their dog and chickens..., and her job.
She called twice on her way back. Now, she is safely home.

Thank you my sweet, sweet friend. I hope you know what this meant to me. Your friendship is a gift of memories and love. Like the Oak tree we played in as children, you gave me support to climb to a new level of my life, a place without parents and you did it silently asking for nothing.

Rose Colored Glasses

At the beginning of the summer I bought a pair of rose colored glasses. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them. It was an inexpensive impulse buy. My thinking was that someone needed a pair of these glasses to remind them to look at the bright side of life. Maybe my sister..., or Mom..., or a friend who seemed so down all the time. I thought it was kind of funny, in a comical way, to give someone a reminder that they should be looking at things a bit more brightly, more "pink" if you will...., and that it would possibly give them a laugh....
Then Mom died..., and my sister found strength she didn't know she had. Without the rose colored glasses, she reached down and found something inside of her that allowed her to do what she had to do. She found a well of resolve and fortitude that carried her through the last week and a half. She has comforted me, and let me cry with her. She is my little sister but she is older, sometimes, than me. She does not need the glasses now.

So, this morning, I put the glasses on and went outside. I realized right away that this "rosy" view is a limited one. It gave a warm, bright tone to my surroundings and made things look softer..., but not real. It was a false coloring of life.., a small illusion that I wanted others to see...., to give them a brighter point of view. I can see the difference, now. My vision without the "rosy" glasses is clear, and real, and without deception. Why didn't I see this before? Why was I always giving everyone Rose Colored glasses?

...., reality looks like this and it's all right. Do you see the difference?

Mourningtime

Just two days before I was called down to be near my dying mother I went to my Son's house and babysat my two grandsons. Maybe we are given some joy before we experience sadness so that a small part of this happiness lingers and gives us strength. My grandchildren will never know how much these images made the sorrow of my Mother's death, somehow, easier.
Life is a gift that makes death a memory and mourning into morning.

Goodby

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow...
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain...
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
-jane ormes-

July 30, 1918 - July 21, 2009

The Ending

I came home yesterday afternoon. This morning I take an early walk, before the heavy heat of the day sets in, and I stand for a while near my favorite tree, the Old Druid. I'm not sure why this tree has such significance for me but it seems to talk to me. It's not a big Oak tree and it's leaning toward the west, over the road. It was damaged at some time in it's life; maybe by a lightening strike or fire. The lower part of the trunk is split and the inside is exposed. I understand how this tree feels. It must stay strong if it is to survive and others rely on it for protection and food. The squirrels always run to another tree when I come down the road but return as soon as I leave. Maybe it's the cat they run from. She is with me, prancing along, sniffing the place where we saw the foxes cross the road earlier this morning.
As I unpack from a week away, the phone rings. It's my brother-in-law. He tells me that Mom is not doing well and seems to be losing her hold on life faster than we expected. I will wait to hear from my sister this afternoon and I will go back down tomorrow.

Old Oak Tree. I heard what you said this morning...., your quiet whisper, a voice that reached inside of me,..., it will be what it will be. I heard you. I was listening.

My sister called...,