Tell Scott I said hi!

It didn’t matter if we had been chatting for quite a while or if it was a quick exchange of pleasantries, Jerry always ended each conversation with me with a quick, “Tell Scott I said hi!” And eeeeeeverytime I assured him I would.

I think Jerry really liked Scott. They had different backgrounds but were both ‘boots on the ground’ workers. A mutual respect was established early in our California days.

Jerry was an airplane pilot for the Air Force. At one time he was based out of Dover AFB so we talked about that area often. We’ve known about his flying career for the entirety of our friendship with Gisela and Jerry, our across-the-street neighbors. Pre-COVID, he was a docent for the Aerospace Museum of California. It was only recently that we found out his actual job was to fly the planes that did in-air refueling of the fighter planes.

This tidbit of information was particularly interesting to me because inflight fueling of planes always makes me think of my mother. She loved a sermon she’d heard (and referred to often) about the intricacies of this unique military maneuver. Hovering over the other plane at 20,000 feet, the refueling team pumps thousands of gallons of gas into the jet at 300+ miles an hour – all without interrupting the flight at hand.

The pastor presenting the sermon used this analogy to speak about the times in life when things are happening around us too quickly to simply stop everything and rejuvenate. Pressures and stresses are coming at us too rapidly and yet our resources are waning. Many (if not all) of us can relate to this feeling the past few years. In an attempt to keep all the balls in the air, our fuel tanks have neared empty far too many times.

Thankfully, God is able to surround and sustain us even while we are still maintaining 300+ miles per hour. He is able to refuel us within the trial, not simply before or after it occurs – just like the Air Force jets do so far above our heads.

Gisela texted me this morning, a very simple sentence: ‘Jerry just passed away’. Having fought cancer for the past two years, it was time for him to land the plane. I spent the morning with Gisela while she waited for him to be transported. There is a year’s wait for Arlington Cemetery, but that will be where he is finally buried. The majestic and hallowed Arlington Cemetery in D.C. While she took a shower, I stayed with Jerry. He had on a white AIR FORCE tshirt and I once again thought about Mom’s favorite sermon. I could hear Gisela’s blow dryer upstairs while I leaned in a little closer to Jerry’s ear. ‘You provided a marriage of exciting hikes and biking trails. You impressed us all with your intellect and travel stories. No more inflight biopsies or invasive procedures. Rest well now. And hey Jerry, tell God I said hi.

I felt sure that he would.

Endless Ocean ASMR: Fort Bragg, California

I actually have culled through my ocean pictures from our trip, but I just can’t go with any less than these. Even if it’s just for my own benefit of collecting them all in one place. I hope you’ll look through them and find a sense of peaceful joy.

We’ve been to the ocean many times during the past three years of living in California, but we’ve yet to just BE at the ocean. We’re always doing something around it but this time my only request was to be able to sit on the beach and read, etc.

Scott brought his fishing pole and we each had three blissful hours of absolute relaxation. There weren’t many people at the beach we happened upon, which made it even sweeter.

I read and cross-stitched and fell in love with two little girls and their sweet parents. Tilly smelled and smelled and loved getting wet. The sun was warm but the temperatures were very cool. I’m telling you…lots of people leave their hearts in San Francisco, but Scott and I left a huge piece of ours in Fort Bragg, California at Pudding Creek Beach.

We explored. We breathed slow and deep. We fell in love with the area and deeper with each other. What a wonderful new place to return to again and again…

One of the many things I love about Scott is his unguarded enthusiasm. He and Tilly took a walk on the beach while I set up my little spot in the sand. Soon they were back and Scott was animatedly telling me that I had to come see this “really cool hiding spot!”

Tilly met a new friend. And like any pre-teen girl, she chased him senselessly without pride or reserve.

Ahhhhh the tribulations of young summer love.

Pawprints in the Sand

I love the California shoreline. It’s craggy and moody and looks like every suspenseful movie or book plot you’ve ever imagined. I always think of Daphne DuMaurier’s, REBECCA. Words like plummeted or at the edge of the shoreline or discarded mitten come to mind. – ha!! (I’ve never lacked an active imagination.)

I want to learn how to speak to anyone at any time and make us both feel a little bit better, lighter, richer, with no commitments of ever meeting again. I want to learn how to stand wherever with whomever and still feel stable. I want to learn how to unlock the locks to our minds, my mind, so that when I hear opinions or views that don’t match up with mine, I can still listen and understand. I want to burn up lifeless habits of following maps and to-do lists, and I want to go back to the way nature shaped me. I want to learn to go on well with whatever I have in my hands at the moment in a natural state of mind,
certain like the sea.

I will find comfort in the rhythm of the sea.

Charlotte Eriksson

Happiest World Ocean Day 2022 today. Oceans are vast and intimidating and mysterious and all the more alluring because of it.

GPS signal lost

“GPS signal lost. No Sirius signal.”

Two phrases broadcasted through our car radio. The truest music to my ears. We were pioneers! Nothing but our car and enormous redwoods to guide us through the Navarro River Redwoods State Park in Mendocino County, California.

We felt like the only humans on the road, wrapped in the magnitude of the mighty redwoods and their preternatural understory. It was quiet and cool and magical. Fairies? Mystical creatures watching us from the privacy of their hiding spot? Maybe! This far into the woods you’d believe just about anything.

The brush underneath the 300+ foot trees deserves its own mention of beauty. The luscious greens and forest scents. Ferns leaning toward the spots where the sun forces its way through to the forest floor. It was absolute heaven.

Unfortunately, this little swallowtail was not long for the forest. He was injured somewhere and trying to limp along unsuccessfully. I’m thankful he let us capture his array of colors. I will treasure this photo all the more for the effort he had to give up to allow it to happen.

Tilly was overwhelmed by all the exciting smells and my little bitty 6’3” husband was no match for the vast height of the California redwoods.

Standing in the middle of this road was one of the highlights of our trip to the coast. The quiet air around me. The road leading us to unknown places. The embrace of the redwoods. The magical dance of the sunbursts. I wanted to sit down and be for just a few moments longer.

I felt the energizing truth of forest bathing.

And then, within a few moments of our forest drive, the smell of salty air started to overtake the pine and our view of the Pacific started to emerge.

I’ll take THIS house, please.

California is the most unusual state. The topography changes within a handful of minutes. Desert. Mountains. Forest. Sea. What an incredible place to live. We keep discovering more and more ‘favorite places’.

Having soaked up the fresh air and lowered our blood pressure from the terpene in our forest therapy, we were ready to put our feet in the Pacific…

The Call of the Mild

You know that emoji with the shocked face, gaping eyes, and raised eyebrows?? 😳 Imagine our goldendoodle, Tilly, with that expression on her people-loving, never-met-a-foe, mild-mannered, pampered face as we drove through the California Napa Valley, listening to The Call of the Wild by Jack London on audio. She had no idea dogs could even act with such violence toward each other or that dog owners would leave their dogs to burrow in a snow pile for warmth at night.

She was aghast!

On our way to the coast for some much-needed time away, we stopped in Glen Ellen, California, at the home of Jack London (1876-1916), one of the first American writers to make successful money during his lifetime (not just posthumously.) He also was one of the first authors to write what would later become known as science fiction.

We listened to The Call of the Wild in the car, quickly invested in the life of Buck – the fictional main character (dog) of London’s 1903 novel. Driving through the vineyard country, then through the magnificent redwoods, on to the sandy beaches of the Pacific, we listened and gasped and reassuringly patted Tilly’s head as we made our way westward.

Calling on his canine ancestors, Buck endured difficult days, learning experiences, and eventually, to trust and love again.

He was older than the days he had seen and the breaths he had drawn.

We have much to learn from our four-legged companions, a wealth of wisdom and insight at our fingertips, in the lives lived of generations past.

Rattlesnakes aside, we walked the grounds of London’s home, graveyard, and museum and picked up a few of his treasured short stories to add to our library.

It was difficult to photograph due to the lighting, but this view from his home looked out over the coastal mountains with pine trees enveloping the house. I mean… who couldn’t write with a view like that?!

Precursor to John Steinbeck, London wrote with the same rugged determination that many of his American literary comrades strove to achieve…the wild West calling to their masculine imagery and dreams. London was part of the radical literary group “The Crowd” in San Francisco and a passionate advocate of workers’ rights and socialism.

After our literary pit stop, Tilly, Scott, and I (a trio of not so rough and tough, hardened adventurers) packed back in our car and kept driving West toward our final destination.

The wild was calling us, but in a much more mildly temperate fashion.

Midtown Mindfulness

I am overwhelmed by the amount of vacation pictures I took this week so instead I’ll post some pictures from the farmer’s market this morning.

This beautiful bouquet came home with me. My eye went to it immediately, sitting in the rows and rows of vibrantly-colored flowers. I love it’s muted, gentle colors and can’t wait to spread it around our home this week.

The produce is coming in strong as the first weekend of PRIDE showed up in grand style at the Midtown Farmer’s Market in Sacramento.

Pluots and apricots made their first appearance and look absolutely delicious. A bag of them is sitting on our kitchen counter, daring us to eat them slowly throughout the week. They are SO sweet and gorgeous!

He is still my favorite market date. ♥️♥️♥️

Good. Very very good. An overcast day in California, filled with happy people and hopeful vendors.

As always, the real stars of the show are the visiting farmer’s market canines that bring their humans along. An Australian Labradoodle puppy really stole the show today!

Saturday in Sacramento is peaceful and mindful and filled with the hope of a week ahead that will include fresh produce, a cute handmade item or two, a sense of community, and joyful anticipation for next weekend’s farmer’s market goods.