on the gad


In more coffee on October 6, 2020 at 3:24 pm

we left home, promising the hunter and the hibernator we would return before dark. more than an hour into the drive, my brother teased, “are we there yet?” siri replied, “don’t be silly.” our destination was tomales bay; four of us were going kayaking in three boats, one of which had to be unfolded first.

never in the habit of doing stuff, and certainly not for the last half year, it was quite heartening to paddle out into the mist. we traded the constant barking of ravens and crows, the frequent sirens of rescue trucks zipping past the house, and the debilitating threat of virus, fire, and discord for quiet water lapping. we saw seagulls, egrets, cormorants, a kingfisher, and gangs of pelicans flew right at us and then over in balletic arcs, wings whispering. seals bobbed up for curious looky-loos. i remembered that the bay is reported to have sharks. and that is precisely where ominous threats belong: in the dark waters below. we have always known how to live with monsters of the deep.

we paddled for hours. we paddled for miles. the smart cookies brought sardines and mussels for their lunch break. we turned back when we could see ocean waves on the horizon. the sun broke through just enough to bless our upturned faces and we searched the ridges for elusive elk. twould have been nice to go out for coffee and such on the way home but i was soaking wet and we knew the hunter was wondering where her dinner was. we old ladies expect to be fed long before dusk. and the hibernator needed her hood down and heating pad on.

now we are back in the garden. the extroverted squirrel likes company with lunch and nibbles his nut next to me, the eugenias hurl their hard purple berries with good aim, and a hummingbird conference has been called just above.

birthday wishes

In coffee on October 10, 2019 at 4:17 pm

the sunflower queen was having another birthday. from her clifftop home perched above the dazzling winking sea, she summoned her children, grandchild, and great grandchild. dutiful eldest son and daughter hurried north on flying goat (coffee). the others lived closer and timed their arrival for just after the summer pies showed up.



the prickly daughter and the youngest one of all compared notes: we prefer cake to pie, weather makes us nervous, and we never answer phones. because the voice at the other end might have questions that need to be answered.




after pie, there were stories told, sandwiches offered to those who are always hungry, and, when the sun went down and the moon came up, the prince provided a magical feast. the grandchild kept asking what the plan was. she likes to know what her lines and cues are and whether or not she will need to come up with an identifying walk or accent. alas, the queen’s clan is hopeless at making any plans at all. ever. but we did make it to the beach.



then the sun faded and a big wind came up. clocks stopped, water ceased to flow, and trees toppled. family scattered and the queen was all alone again. when she has quite recovered i am sure she will summon her people again. and we will come.


fairy tale wedding

In coffee on September 13, 2019 at 3:20 pm


she says: i can’t believe i am dragging my chronic low-grade misery across country to this joyous occasion.

he says: i don’t know why i have to go. it is not like i will be bringing any sunshine to the event.

and then her crusty old parents dusted off their rusty hearts and flew into hurricane winds to be there for their glorious, fabulous, much-loved daughter. rainbow cousins raced fierce falling trees on the north coast and awoke to identical twin girls jabbering in various languages at the foot of the bed on the east coast. friends and families were summoned from distant islands, the bay, and even just four blocks away.


the bride and her intended were gorgeous. the ritual sublime, notes-on-paper vows so heartfelt; venue, jazz band, catered food, cocktails, weather . . . all was perfection. cousin shared blessings from grandmother and uncle conjured up grandfather in his toast. there were so many beautiful people gathered together that the earth tilted on its axis a little.



a whirlwind weekend with happiness swelling in all the breasts. two kinds of people: unhampered by shyness or age-issues, most folk took to the dance floor. my brother and i found good coffee shops and numerous park benches to quietly celebrate.