Warming to the Evironment... and the Great Blue.

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea.”
Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

No one was on the pier yet. It was quiet... except for the birds, and water lapping on the shore.

We slept well the first night. The sun rose on Tomales Bay and turned everything blue and gold.

See the front of this boat? That's not yellow paint... that's the reflection of the sun.

'Bird with Twisted Foot' was waiting on the seawall and didn't move away when I came out to take some pictures.

He was interacting with some of the other seagulls and didn't really give me any eye contact. just some side glances.
"Hello bird.", I said nonchalantly, and  then we had a short conversation. Well, it was kind of one sided and I will have to fill in his side of it for you. He spoke in little squeals and mewing sounds. I listened carefully and, like a language that you are just learning, not all of it was clear... but I caught the gist of what he was trying to say.
"My name is not Bird with Twisted Foot.", he started out, "but it's OK for you to use it if you want to."
"What is your name?", I asked.
"My name is Jon. I was named after my great, great, great, great grandfather."
"Seagulls do that, like people do?" I was surprised that this bird would have such a lineage.
"Well, yes. There are a lot of us. It would be confusing if we didn't have names." He looked straight at me. and said, "What's yours?"
"Oh... my name is... uh... Farmlady." I gave him my avatar name.
"No it's not! That's what someone does. That's not a name."
"Well, I don't like to give my real name to just anybody." What would you call me?", I said.
"Henrietta"
"What? Like a chicken? Do I look like a Henrietta?" I was unset that he didn't pick something pretty, like Casandra or Amelia... or Sophia." Why Henrietta?"
"I don't know. I just heard someone shouting that name here last week. It's as good as any."
"Well, Jon, I don't care for it, but if that's what you want to call me, I'm OK with it... I guess."
"You aren't related to Jonathan Livingston Seagull, are you?" I was kind of joking, but he listened and replied.
"I don't know. Is he a famous seagull?  I remember my mother telling me about one of us who flew, not to just get food, but to see how high he could fly. I wanted to try and sometimes I would fly way up, as high as I could, just to see what would happen.  Mom would get angry and talk about recessive genes. I don't do this anymore. I'm too old now and...", he hesitated, "A few years back I had an accident."
"Oh, no.", I said, "What happen?"
He looked out toward the dock that extended into the bay and sighed,
"Well, Henrietta, I got tangled in some fishing line. It was awful. I flew into a fisherman's line and ... well, I don't remember very much after that, I was in kind of a panic. The line got wrapped around my legs and it was tight and I couldn't get it off. A day later this human found me on the beach and cut the string off. I will never forget the kindness and how he kept telling me that it would be OK. I probably wouldn't be able to walk if he hadn't cut the line off of me... or be dead. My leg is crooked and it doesn't work very well but I still have it. That's something to be thankful for. I don't go out near the dock anymore. I try to stay here where it's safer."
"But", he looked up, "I still like to fly. It feels so good to fly up into the air and look down on everything. It's kind of magic. I love to fly. I go out where there is no fishing and nothing to get tangle up in and I can still fly quite high."
I listened to Jon and thought about what it must be like to be a bird. What it must be like to fly, to have wings and be able to leave this earth and hover over it. To have control over your own flight into the air... and to be trapped and tangled in fishing line. What an experience it would be.
"I'm sorry that happen to you, Jon.".
"Thanks. Being near humans is kind of a mixed bag. They seem kind and helpful. They give us food... but, then things like that happen and we wonder what their intentions really are. I guess everything we do comes with consequences. It's just life."
Then, without another word... Jon flew away.

I took more pictures, sitting on the outdoor table and watched the sun come up into the hazy, cloudless day. Later in the day the clouds would build and making interesting patterns in the sky, but right now the sun made its presence known.There was no warmth yet, but Oh... the color of everything... golden... and shiny.
I spotted a Great Blue Heron and a Cormorant on the old pier posts out in the bay. They were enjoying  the early morning sun.

The Heron was really beautiful. I was wishing that I had a longer lens on my camera.  There is a lot of "noise" in these photos because of the distance and cropping, not having a tripod... and other things that would be  too boring if I tried to explain. Suffice it to say, I was lucky they came out this good.
I was delighted to see this bird, this amazingly beautiful bird, sharing space with a common Cormorant.  They both seemed to be in their element. Each so different but living together in one place, sharing the fishing, accepting the environment that was theirs.

My tripod was in the RV but I was afraid that the birds would fly away. Didn't happen. This Heron was still on this pier post, later in the day, when I took a picture of The Prospector and the dogs on the fishing pier.

That is the Great Blue, on the post above the Prospector's head. It was there most of the day. I still didn't use the tripod. I have no excuse.
I finally cropped this bird as close as I could.

They suffer from over processing and look more like paintings than photos but the essence is there.

 This is a stunning bird.This is one of those moments that transcends lazy and inept camera skills. I was happy to see this amazingly beautiful bird, sharing space with the rather common Cormorant. They both seemed to be in their element. Each so different but living together in one place, sharing the fishing, accepting the environment that was theirs.

Oh, look... there was another trailer moving in.  A small teardrop trailer was pulling into a space. As we watched from the pier, the spaces slowly started filling in. We wouldn't be alone tonight.

By the next morning, this was how we looked. People, activity, kids yelling and dogs barking...

 A day later, the campgrounds filled and I began to feel more comfortable in this community of temporary living. I was warming to Lawson's Landing.

This place didn't seem so bleak. I was settling in.

That's not Jon, above. There are lots of Western Gulls. Some look very similar. This was one of many, who  hang around the pier and wait for a piece of dropped bait. They were everywhere.
Carl was not happy about these birds being so close to him. He barked at all of them. It was hard on a small corgi.
 He had to rest a lot in the RV.

Look at this. Poor, tired Carl.
He didn't have control of the situation. It was taking its toll.
And then... there were the CRABS.

Bird with Twisted Foot

 I'm slowly learning the secret of people who love the ocean. It involves spending enough time being there to 'walk in its shoes' (sandy shoes, but shoes none the less.). It's about the repetition of sounds and the beauty of birds. It's about the light that you only see at the end of the land.
 Even Carl took notice and had to say something about it all.

We left Bogega Bay on Thursday, last week. We said goodbye to our friends and headed south.

We drove to Dillon's Beach and they returned to the mountains. We spend four days eating good food, driving up the coast, going to art galleries and tourist traps, walking dogs and generally having a good time. We ate lunch at the TIDES restaurant which was surprisingly good but very expensive. It looks very different that it did in the Hitchcock movie called THE BIRDS...but nothing caught fire and no birds attacked us.

The Prospector has been waiting for clam chowder for quite some time and it sounded really good with a salad... so we both had some. It came in a small, scooped out loaf of really good french bread. It was delicious.
We had a good laugh at a seagull who invited itself to lunch with us. We saw him through the window.

 Poor, beautiful, starving bird... he just sat and stared.
 and then, he really putting on a show for us...He posed. He smiled and did a little seagull dance.

The window didn't open, so all his efforts were in vain... but he was great entertainment for us while we ate. He stayed there during our lunch and left as soon as we got up to leave. Sorry bird.
I learned, from my jewelry making friend while we were still in Bodega Bay, how to do Kumihimo. Do you know what this is? It's an interesting way to make cords for jewelry. (I will do a post on it later.)

So, like I said, we drove down to Dillon Beach and into Lawson's Landing, at the entrance to Tomales Bay. We went from full hookups to Desolation Valley.

We went from clean bathrooms with hot water, heaters, lots of company and other RVer's, dog play yards and tall trees and the 49er game ( I didn't mean to mention that. Sorry)... to pit toilets and NOBODY. It was a bit of a let down, even though I had been here once before.
I remembered thinking about that popular Albert Einstein saying , "Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." We had no car. This was a long way from Dillon's beach or any other place. It's kind of a rundown... no... let's be honest...UGLY campground. We had been here before... and here we were again.
But the Prospector said that it was the best way to try out all the bells and whistles on the RV with the generator...and besides... he didn't buy all the "crabbing stuff " to have it sit in the garage at home.  No crabs in Jackson, CA.
So we stabilized our "home away from home", took the dogs for a walk and then I watched some sea gulls doing what seagulls do.

Fly

Bully each other

 Steal stuff.

Gang up...

and terrorize others.

(Kind of reminded me of some humans.)

Then...

I saw this old seagull, who was kind of separated from the others. It was hanging near the seawall just on the other side of our "campsite".

It had the look of wisdom and experience. It was facing into the wind rather boldly. 

By evening, the seagull was still there. That's when I decided to give it a name. I would call it 'Bird with twisted foot'. His left foot was always turned in and bent a little. This didn't seem to restrict his ability to get around or fly, but it gave him the sympathy factor and it worked. I wanted to take him home with me.

 He was a seagull with a story. I could tell that his eyes had seen many things.

 It turns out that this must have been his spot, because he was there the whole time we were there. He would leave and fly to different places, but he always come back to his place near the wall, in front of our RV.

He was a bird apart.

 He had personality and eye contact.

 I would learn to love this desolate and wild place where the bay meets the ocean. I would find out why this bird choose me to communicate with and what it had to say.

'Bird with twisted foot' was going to teach me something.

All I had to do was listen.

Wordless Wednesday: I know... a week and a half later. I've been beachbuming.

"Making the world a better place, one tutu at a time"- Hip Chick

This was my sister's birthday weekend. I won't tell you how many birthdays because it's not important and we have decided that it's more about the creative process than the years.
So we spent last Saturday at an art class in Benicia, CA. at Carrie Clayden's Hip Chick Designs learning how to put paint to canvas.

The Artist Colony is in the old buildings of the Benicia Arsenal.

It was a lovely California winter day with fog that sat stubbornly near the water and finally broke off for an hour or so while we ate our lunch on the "veranda".
We started the day inside Carrie's charming business... in the back studio.

She talked about art and the creative process. She told us about herself, how she came to her realization as an artist and how TUTUs played a big part in this process.
 I told her that I would die for a space like this...

A place to create, make a mess and not have to clean it up for dinner,

A place to allow myself... give myself... creative license. Carrie said that she had gone though the same feelings. So, at some point she put a Tutu on and life became happier... and her creativity took off and so did her business. All of the things that she didn't think she could do were finally tried. If there was a "mistake", she would move on... covering the canvas with more paint... covering the wrong color with another, until she found her place as an artist. She says that there are no failures... only new opportunities.
So. with bravery and many acrilic paints to chose from, I wet my brush and covered the white canvas with two or three colors...all kind of green and yellow... mixing them together like I knew what I was doing.

What fun!
I put the brush down and used my fingers. What fun!
 Carrie said "Don't worry. This is just the first layer."
That was when I didn't take anymore photos with the camera until after lunch because my hands were so sticky and messy.
I tore old newspapers up and collaged them on top of the paint.
I fell in love with a beautiful blue paint.  I dripped and ran magenta paint down one side
With Carrie's help, I sketched a dress on top of the layers and painted a beautiful white "tutu" dress on the canvas with lots of real tule fabric added to the skirt, with piles of Mod Podge and more paint. I added some pink and blue highlights to the dress and then it was time for lunch and drying the paintings in the sun.

Eating a delicious salad that Carrie had fixed for us...

And eating some wonderful desserts.

After the relaxing lunch we returned to our easels... added more paint and even laid the paintings on the floor and splattered paint on them from above. This made me a little nervous, but I did it.
I felt like a student of Jackson Pollock  . It was really liberating.
Finally, I added some cool, lacy  fabric to the bodice of the dress and a touch in the corner.

With Carrie's suggestion, I wrapped the edges of the canvas with old "1938" newpapers and added a little sparkle here and there. She showed us so many techniques and gave us all kinds of ideas to help complete our paintings. She's a great teacher.

She believes in showing the new artist many ways to use their "tools",  but lets each person express and create their own vision. She guides and teaches, but doesn't make you do it her way. It's just magic!
And as the sign over the doorway said...

It certainly did.

We had a great time and we created our little hearts out.
Here's to always being creative, always learning something new and spending the rest of my life being a multiplicity artist of anything that I choose. I may never land anywhere or stick to one kind of art. There is always a need inside of me to learn something new.
So, I guess I'm a writer, photographer, mixed media, collage, maker of fancy envelopes and strange repurposed dolls, a knitter, felter, gardener, blogger and gourd artist. I'm OK with this because I'm living a creative life and I find this all very exciting.
It's like when the poet, Mary Oliver, asks,
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
Well... I have an answer.
I create art. I see photos and stories in my head.  I fold paper and get glue on everything...
AND, I love the process.
Multiple personality... a bit Attention Deficit... a day dreamer? Probably.

But, It's OK. My friends and family understand and my husband tolerates my passions. (He has a few of his own.)


So... here is my painting.
I'm so delighted with it.

It's even prettier in person.

This is what the inside of me looks like.
Can't you just see the happiness?

I had a great day with my sister and we celebrated her birthday all weekend.
It was a good visit.
Happy, happy, happy birthday Sis.

Wordless Wednesday" Amador Stickman... a rare sighting.