Spring

Poppies at Arroyo Verde Park in Ventura

My adult children and my grandchildren spent much of last week at my house. We climbed a hill to see these poppies. We went whale watching and saw at least 30 gray whales and several hundred dolphins. It is a glorious thing to survey the ocean around you and see dolphins in every direction. We kayaked; we walked on the beach and hunted sea glass, shells, and interesting rocks. We visited the Santa Barbara Natural History Museum and Planetarium. We ate out at a restaurant on the sand, had high tea on my patio on the newly refurbished teak furniture, and ate delicious food at my table. I can't think of a better lead-up to the first day of spring--all the love, conversation, and the sheer bounty of this life.

I know that spring can feel like a false promise, a let-down, a so-this-is-all-there-is, but not for me this year. Of course, perfection always eludes, but at this stage of the game I'm calling even that perfect enough.

Three of the tag-team kayakers. The other two were picked up by their mom and taken home for hot showers.

Even this bear looks happy.

Photos of sand castles in progress, in ruins, or perfect always make me happy

Happy Spring!

I'm in the air.

We just flew over Mt. Rainier. It was completely covered with snow. You'll have to take my word for it since uploading a photo takes forever on the Internet here in this place not quite on Earth. I'm also about to have a gin and tonic. I know you'll take my word on that.

So how was the cruise, you might be wondering--if you even remember that there is such a place as Margaritaville after my long absence. Turns out that boat was a big as a mountain--which I didn't really know when I agreed to take this trip with my friend Ellen. She made all of the arrangements, and I said, yeah, yeah, sure sounds absolutely fabulous, not quite believing that I'd actually be able to go, given my obligations in Margaritaville's sister city, Pillville. But the grand plan to take my mom off hospice for two weeks and fly with  her to my brother's house worked out great. News has it that she's doing fine, although I won't know if that's the whole story until I can talk to my brother or his girlfriend (a.k.a. the saints.)

I never quite imagined myself on a cruise ship that holds a couple thousand people, and while the idea of that is, I admit, not my idea of the sort of ecological footprint I want to step into, for all I know, it's better than flying. The ship claims to recycle all paper, plastic, and glass, and they use few disposable products. Even the napkins are cloth and there are single use cloth hand towels in all the restrooms in addition to paper towels. They only change sheets and towels upon request, and the portions of food served are very modest. A big eater would have to hit the buffet before visiting the dining room, so there's probably less food waste than in the average American restaurant, diner for diner.

Now that I've given my best to justify the boat as big as a mountain, let's just say it was wonderful in every way. Beautiful little cabin, superb and friendly service (holy shit, I do sincerely hope all of these people are being paid a living wage) Delicious and healthy fresh food to please all tastes and ethnicities. (I wish I'd taken the galley tour on the first day that explains how they do what they do.) There were trivia matches, dance lessons (these were free), a well-appointed yoga studio with good teachers (not as good as the ones I have at home, but still...) There was a spa (too expensive for me.) There was an acupuncturist (not free). There were lectures by a naturalist, many entertainments with Boradway quality performers (all free), and for a pretty penny, there were excursions one could book at various ports. The two we did were worth the money--a steam engine train on a narrow gauge track up a mountain--more like on the edge of a mountain, really. I got terrified for a bit when the train couldn't make it up a particular hill, had to back up, then still couldn't make it and the tracks had to be sanded and even then the wheels slipped and the train geek sitting behind me mentioned that a more skilled engineer would have know how to build up a better head of steam and managed it without spinning the wheels. But I powered through by writing a note to a friend on my iPhone for sending later. Knowing I had his ear, even in a delayed fashion, got me through it. The other excursion was ocean kayaking which had its drama too, but I was actually okay with that. Both excursions were a dose of extreme natural beauty that left both of us awestruck.

So, there you have it. There may be an annual cruise wherein I depart Pillville in order to take to the water. I may even choose to go to Alaska again. I've fallen in love.

The Bunny Boat

For almost 20 years our family went to New York City for Easter week. We crammed in as much theatre as possible, ate dinner at our favorite restaurants, and, given the religious nature of the Someone, went to Mass at some church near Lincoln Center famous for its choir. It's always hard to reinvent family traditions after divorce, and since my kids were pretty much grown, none of us made an effort for Easter. I can't really tell you what's gone on in my life the Easters since my divorce--though I know that I've probably blogged about it year after year. But now for two years running, M and I have had brunch at the same bar overlooking the water. This year we kayaked there. Mimosas, fish tacos, mermaid murals and spending time with a daughter. Nice. Oh--and the Easter Bunny himself came by in his boat. Now all we need is chocolate. I think we're about to do something about that.

Orange is the New Kayak

Daughter C has been visiting so I talked through my kayak dilemma with her. (You didn't know I had a kayak dilemma, did you?) "Should I get a 1-person or a 2-person kayak as our second kayak?" I asked. We discussed the pros and cons, one issue being how we would get a 2-person kayak home. At 12 feet, it most certainly would not fit in the Prius. I knew from my earlier purchase of a 1-person kayak from REI that they didn't deliver.

C and I decided to go the West Marine just a few miles from my house. If we could carry the kayak a block or so, we could put in in the water and paddle it home. After a brief jaunt around the store to prove to myself that I could carry my half--30.5 pounds--we walked out the the door with it. It's rather awkward walking down the street with a kayak.  And I did require a pause or two along the way, but we made it to the water.

It was so much fun that the next day we paddled it to lunch and had to share a boat dock with a sea lion. It was a long dock, so a turf war was avoided.

That was so much fun, that today we paddled to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries.

I'm thrilled to have been out under the blue sky so much the last couple of days. C. goes back to Minnesota tomorrow, and the man who loves me has finished his recuperation here and went back to his place today so he can get ready for chemo and radiation.

Now with the kayak dilemma solved, I will turn my attention to the usual Pillville matters--the first of which will be to follow up again on the hospital bed I'm trying to get for my mom.

View from a Kayak

And when I came home and checked my email, there was this from my Poem a Day subscription from poets.org:

Song of Quietness by Robinson Jeffers Drink deep, drink deep of quietness,         And on the margins of the sea  Remember not thine old distress         Nor all the miseries to be.  Calmer than mists, and cold  As they, that fold on fold  Up the dim valley are rolled,         Learn thou to be.  The Past--it was a feverish dream,         A drunken slumber full of tears.  The Future--O what wild wings gleam,         Wheeled in the van of desperate years!  Thou lovedst the evening: dawn  Glimmers; the night is gone:--  What dangers lure thee on,         What dreams more fierce?  But meanwhile, now the east is gray,         The hour is pale, the cocks yet dumb,  Be glad before the birth of day,         Take thy brief rest ere morning come:  Here in the beautiful woods  All night the sea-mist floods,-- Thy last of solitudes,         Thy yearlong home.

Pussycat and the Pea Green Boat

The kayak sat in the garage for a couple of days, because I needed help to tote it down to the dock. But thanks to M, it made it. I've been out the last two mornings, eyeball to eyeball with the great blue herons, on the water by myself at 6:00 or 6:30 a.m.

I'm really getting in shape with all that paddling, right?

 If you could see what I really look like, you'd laugh. Typical outdoorsy pants--check. Ratty t-shirt--check. Life-vest--check. Think Pillsbury dough boy goes paddling. The neighbors in the condos across the water are probably spreading the word, and in a few more days there ought to be audible applause as I belly-flop out of the kayak and onto my dock. It's no problem getting into the boat, but a graceful exit eludes me. Yes, I've watched the youtube instructional videos. Hahaha.

photo credit: tourbarbados.net