365 True Things: 344/Garden

I wrote about my garden last June, when I was full of enthusiastic optimism. (I was about to go on vacation. Optimism spikes when vacation is nigh.) I wrote about it again in August, when I was less positive. Though I did think I might be getting a neighborly assist. Alas, that crumbled to dust before anything ever happened. (And the neighbor made off with my entire seed collection to boot.)

It doesn't look like much,
but believe me: it's way better

It's a new year, though, and this weekend, undaunted, we got out there and worked. Filled four large yard waste bins (our nearby neighbors were no doubt delighted to lend us theirs: community improvement) with, mostly, arugula run amok. (Another one or two binfuls will finish the job with next week's trash pick-up.) Today I pulled poppies and lupines from the long narrow bed that backs onto a stone wall; the wall creates extra warmth, so it's good for nightshade family members. Accordingly, I planted five tomatoes, four peppers, and one lonely eggplant. Filled the bed, which also contains some struggling strawberries and new little snap pea plants. That felt good.

There's still plenty (but plenty) to do: empty the yard of the last of the weeds, plant a bunch of seeds, then assess what space is left and go buy and plant some more plants and seeds. But I'm hopeful. I am, after all, as I detailed earlier, an optimist deep down. The trick is to keep the garden steadily in my consciousness.

I am hereby planning a daily visit "down under" (the garden is on a terrace below the house, so out of sight—and out of mind if I don't actively add it to my list of daily chores). I just need to advance past my love of digging and planting, and learn to appreciate the joys of tending and, eventually, harvesting. I can do it! I can!

The Aztec rain god, Tlaloc

Though I've gotta say, it sure helps when water pours copiously out of the sky, loosening the soil and nurturing the plants naturally. Five inches of rain this weekend: heaven sent, literally. Thank you, Tlaloc, Bi Xing, Lono, Surupa, Dudumitsa, Deng, Lumo, and Tó Neinilii—and all other rain deities. THANK YOU!

365 True Things: 343/Tree

That's it, looming behind the former house

We have an enormous Monterey pine tree in our back yard—that is, in the back corner of our small property. It is without doubt the largest Monterey pine in our small city of Del Rey Oaks, well nurtured thanks to its location. It was probably planted when the subdivision went in, in 1953. It's a native tree; it provides habitat and oxygen: all good things.

The other week we received a letter from the owners of the house next door. (They do not, and probably would never choose to, live in our humble community. Their daughter and grandchild do, however.) In it, they asked us to remove our beautiful big Monterey pine because, basically, it's annoying. They have to pick up after it. The roots are cracking the concrete slab in their yard. (Perhaps a concrete slab is not a wise thing to install near a pine tree. A deck, maybe, would be better?) It's a "danger," they say.

We did, several years ago, remove a few limbs of said pine on their request because . . . I'm not actually sure why. They were afraid those specific limbs would fall on their house? Never mind that we've lived here twenty-five years, and never has anything threatening fallen on anything. But we were affable enough—if it would make them happier.

It didn't, apparently.

Apparently, they hate trees.

That's it looming behind the new house,
courtesy Google Streetview

Or this tree, at any rate.

Perhaps they should not have purchased the house if they're worried about trees.

They also claimed that our dog shits in their back yard. Which is impossible: we have a securely fenced yard for a reason. (They even sent a picture of said poop. Definitely the poop of a smaller dog than Milo.) Though what that has to do with the tree, I don't know.

They also sent pictures of their cracked concrete, and of pine needles, and of "large branches" (I'd call them twigs), and of the huge looming tree (aaaaaahhhhhh!).

Today, David drafted a response to their concerns. First, he explained, we went to the city and ascertained that, no, we can't remove a tree unless it's sick and/or dangerous. Then we called an arborist in, and he affirmed: The tree is thriving! It's beautiful! Definitely not dangerous.

Moreover, he said that if the neighbors do anything to undermine the tree's health, they will be liable.

I do not like feuding with a neighbor (though it bothers me a little less that this "neighbor" is just a neighbor on paper). But seriously—if they press the issue, we're going to stick to our guns. Even if it means legal recourse.

That big beautiful tree is more important than the petty concerns of people who, maybe, need to get on their roofs a couple of times a year and sweep them clean of pine needles. Or spend a little money to put in a deck. Or who may just choose to sell the house a few years on, for whatever reason.

The big beautiful Monterey pine can't move. It is at home. And it's at home in our back yard. That makes me happy.

365 True Things: 342/Photography

I was actually going to write about fish today (as in, fish tank fish), but in scanning my files for a photo to accompany the post, I found nothing suitable. I did, however, stumble on some black-and-white diptychs that I'd completely forgotten about, and was sufficiently charmed that I dropped the fish idea (for now).

So for your viewing pleasure, more photography by me and my long-distance photo pal, Susan from New Jersey. These pairings arose in November 2014 when another Flickr friend, Rachel, who lives in Illinois, challenged both Susan and me to one of those never-ending five-day photography challenges on Facebook. To make it more interesting, I suggested to Susan that we do another set of diptychs.

And in case you check out the above link and see that back in June we were stuck on V in our alphabet diptych project, I will have you know that we are now stuck on W! (Susan????)

So, without further ado (in all but the first, my photo is on the right):

365 True Things: 341/Books

I can't remember the last time I spent most of the day lying around reading. Oh wait, no, I can too: it was back in December, when I blasted through The Water Knife in the course of a weekend.

Normally, though, I save my reading for the evening. I am a slow reader, and it usually takes me a little while to finish a book. Which I must keep in mind in the context of my 61 Books project, since I have 49 to go and only nine months left. The clock is a-tickin'.

It being a gloomy, rainy day today, I decided to settle in this afternoon with A Lily of the Field, a historical thriller by John Lawton that comes highly recommended by my friend Trudy. Set during and immediately after World War II, it covers everything from the development of the atom bomb to the Auschwitz women's orchestra. Somehow, the physicist's and the cellist's stories will merge. It's a cracking good yarn, and I'm learning something besides.

And now, back to reading.

365 True Things: 340/Wildlife

Today is UN World Wildlife Day. The theme: "The future of wildlife is in our hands."

One way to help is to donate to some of the hundreds of groups that support the biodiversity of this miraculous planet. For example:

Save the Elephants
Amboseli Trust
WildlifeDirect
International Fund for Animal Welfare
Big Life Foundation
Yellowstone Park Foundation
Yosemite Conservancy
Center for Whale Research
Center for Biological Diversity
Cheetah Conservation Fund
Sea Turtle Conservancy

If you have a favorite animal, find out if there's an organization that champions it. Most likely, there is.

If you like to travel, there are organizations that can use your help conducting important research. For example, the British-based Frontier has projects in such farflung places as Madagascar, Fiji, Belize, Tanzania, and Costa Rica. Or try Earthwatch Institute, which helps to protect twenty-one endangered species and supports research on every continent.

Closer to home, there's no doubt a nature preserve or special animal that you can help through volunteer work. Where I live, for example, volunteers are the lifeblood of the Monterey Bay Aquarium and Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, through its Foundation, interpreting local natural history for visitors.

If you're a reader, you might enjoy the new book by Carl Safina, Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel—or any other of his books about this earth. (I stole the above list of organizations from a post of his on Facebook, so I'm paying back.)

The more we know, the better able we are to make this a healthy place for all of us to live and thrive.

There's no shortage of things you can do to help support wildlife. Please do!

365 True Things: 339/Anticipation

Over the past few months, I've been signing up for things: workshops, conferences, classes. Self-improvement. And soon, they're going to start crowding into my life. I'm deliriously happy about that!

First, at the end of March, a four-week OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute) class on the films of Errol Morris kicks off. Each week we'll discuss a film by this "paradigm-shifting, and Oscar-winning, filmmaker. His films wriggle away from strict documentary rules to demonstrate the impossibility of ever being 'objective.' His subjects have ranged from wrongfully convicted murderers, to naked mole rat researchers, to Robert McNamara—an architect of the Vietnam War. His films are stunning, quirky, genuine, passionate, and deeply insightful."

A friend I visited in Tucson recently has dived feet first into OLLI classes there, and is loving them. So I decided to check out my local offerings. The Errol Morris class was the only one that piqued my curiosity, but I've really enjoyed the Morris films I've seen in the past, so, yeah: I'm excited.

Then, at the beginning of April I'm heading to Boulder, CO, to attend a three-day Writing x Writers workshop, with Pam Houston, Craig Childs, and Luis Alberto Urrea. (Urrea's The Devil's Highway is next up on my 61 Books list.) "Each day will start with a craft talk by one of our faculty members and then participants will split into small groups where they will dissect the art and craft of writing through lectures, writing exercises, and class discussions." I'm excited about Boulder, where I'll spend my first evening with some old friends from Cal; I'm excited to spend a few days with my wonderful sister-in-law, who introduced me to Writing x Writers in the first place; I'm excited to spend four days at the historic Colorado Chautauqua; and of course I'm excited to be privy to the talent and wisdom of the faculty.

In May, for something completely different, I'm venturing into the Gold Country—specifically, the tiny town of Volcano—for a weeklong class in book arts: "Book Jewels: Fastenings and Furnishings for Bookbinders." "Let's grab our pliers and blow torches and get medieval on your books . . . Learn the basic fabrication skills you need to make brass and copper bosses, clasps, corners, front-pieces, and other historic furniture." I've been wanting to kickstart my books art skills, and I figured this class might do the trick. At the very least, I'll get to work with Christine Cox, the active and enthusiastic proprietor of Volcano Arts (metalsmithing, bookbinding, stained glass, marbling, eyelets, and more), and meet a couple of other book artists into the bargain. And have a springtime working vacation in the Sierra foothills.

I may be looking forward to the hotel
as much as the conference

Finally, at the end of July I'm heading to Santa Fe, NM, for the University of New Mexico Summer Writers' Conference, to take two weeklong classes: mornings with BK Loren on psychology and fiction and afternoons with Priscilla Long on prose style. BK's class is exploratory and generative: "We’ll look at the following schools of psychological thought and learn how to apply some of their tools to character development: Archetypal Psychology; Gestalt; Ecopsychology; and Humanistic-Existential Psychology. Each day, we’ll study how the concepts of one of these psychologies can guide character development, and we’ll do exercises based on the specific concepts we’ve learned." Priscilla's class is focused on sentence- and paragraph-level revision—so I'd better get cracking and have some stories I want to work on revising by the end of July. A goal!

The Santa Fe workshop will, I anticipate, be the occasion of another road trip, this one heading through the Rockies and Salt Lake City to visit an MFA buddy.

Now to start thinking about the second half of the year . . .

365 True Things: 338/Travel (Ecuador)

In 2010, a few weeks after I returned from Scotland, I set off for an entirely different quadrisphere: South America—specifically, Ecuador.

I went with a bunch (gaggle, flock, murder, bevy, convocation, murmuration, dissimulation) of birders, all toting top-of-the-line Swarovsky binoculars. I had a pair of Zeiss binocs. I saw lots of birds. It was all good.

And Ecuador! What a beautiful, varied, friendly place. I'd go back in an instant. In fact, we're considering just when to go again, this time flitting out to the Galápagos as part of the package.

Here are a few photos. Looking back at what I posted at the time to Flickr, I realize I'm missing a lot of the trip. Makes me curious to return to the originals and see if I can dredge up any more interesting (to me, if no one else) images.

Quito: what a beautiful city

View from our sixth-floor hotel room

Our excellent guide Gustavo (note: Swarovsky)

There was jungle mud

To view the canopy, one must climb

Squirrel monkey outside our Sacha Lodge room

Ecuador is home to over 132 species of hummingbirds
grouped into 57 genera, representing half of all
hummingbirds found worldwide.

Lophocampa modesta?

My wonderful roommate, Barbara

The equator

Cotopaxi, from the veranda of
Wildsumaco Lodge

Goodbye Quito