Ortega Hwy to Temecula Wine Country

Today was in the 70's and sunny; a perfect day for an adventure. We have not been doing as much exploring from our new base station here at the beach as we would like and decided to hit the road this afternoon.

Temecula California has become a contender in the Wine Country game and while we have cruised through the area, we have never visited the wineries. We chose the scenic route, a twisty 2 lane road that winds through the Santiago mountains. Just the thing to cure our longing for the kind of scenery we were so used to at the ranch.

                                      Heading out on Ortega Highway

I love the variety of formations in the California mountains. And the guy driving is OK too!

Lake Elsinore 

Temecula Wine Country

Temecula wine! 

Got 2 tastings at Thornton Winery, A Taste of Chocolate (heavenly) and one I'd never heard of before, Nebbiolo (not bad, not remarkable).

Brie in pastry with candied walnuts and honey glaze. Lucky husband, got to eat all the walnuts. I am suddenly allergic to them!

Where the magic happens. I love this photo, trees all leaning to the right, near vertical

rows of grapes and horizontal utility lines.

Lake Elsinore on the way home. It's a pretty big lake and I wanted a better shot than I got on the way out. We stopped at a lookout and I got out of the car. The wind was crazy blowing and the dirt was flying. I still have sand in my hair! I feared for my camera lens so this is all I got.

Back on the beautiful Ortega. It looks so much

 like the drive up to the ranch. 

I took about 20 rapid fire shots of Old Glory billowing in the breeze to get this image. I thought it appropriate for Memorial Day.

Here's what I'm thinking: A beautiful day like today feeds my soul, reminds me how much I care for my partner of 48 years, inspires me to count my blessings and reminds me how beautiful this country is. 

Watching Old Glory dancing in the wind I found myself choking up. Thinking of everything that flag has seen in her more than 200 years, I decided to hang onto my faith in my fellow Americans. Long may she wave over a land of peace, prosperity, freedom and justice for all. 

Look what I did this afternoon

My daughter, Laura Bray, adopted a red tail hawk for me from a bird rescue and today I got to release him back into the skies. What an amazing experience. I have a thing for red tails I think because I spent so much time with them at the ranch. Thank you so much Katie ( that's what I call her), I will never forget this.

Here's what I'm thinking: The mystery lives, right here among us. Nameste

Spring has sprung...

at least here in SoCal! It's 60's and 70's, foggy and cloudy, but when the sun does peek out it's fabulous!

Been keeping busy with the new adventures.

 Remember this?

Several weeks ago, the amazing Charlotte Backman, my painting guru, invited a Tibetian Monk to teach us to paint these amazing works? Well, I began to think of my piece as the never-ending painting.

But, at last, I see progress. I have been working on it but not really seeing progress until yesterday!

I think I may actually finish. I have never made anything this complex. Working on this has taught me a lot about painting and about my self.

I have also been enjoying the company of my new writing friends. Something is really going on with me these days and I am creating up a storm. Here are a few recent works.

The Answers

are not

in the moment.

Revelation

shuns the 

present.

Fashionably late

Clarity arrives

the day after.

lm 2/2013

Mourning Brew

I find you 

in the coffee

I am spooning 

into the pot

it is an electric coffee maker

not a stove-top percolator

and you are a memory

not a strong hug

and dancing eyes.

lm 3/201

Nyctogenous 

Riding heavy and low

in the blue-black sky,

the midnight moon marks 

the estrus of shadow.

Close your eyes,

open your mind.

Breath in the

fecundity of the night.

So often the beautiful

and promising Dark

is faulted for the weakness

of those with no imagination.

The ones gifted with the magic

see the nocturnal plane 

resplendent with cardinal life; 

feral, timeless and powerful.

Here, the ancient lovers, 

Yin and Yang, who dare merely flirt 

beneath the sun, dance wildly 

to surrender in impassioned embrace.

The conjurers greet

the blinding, rising sun

as spirits renewed,

winking at the hubris of the day.

lm/2013

Red Sky at Morning

The sunrise

was red and gold

this morning.

A sign to beware 

the day’s foul weather.

I read your words

this morning and

I wondered if they 

were a warning 

of stormy hours ahead.

lm 2/2013


In keeping with the "make new friends but keep the old" theme from last post, I had the most wonderful time with my old Wranch Writers who so kindly took a road trip to have a meeting here. After the usual invigorating sharing and critiquing of our work we headed to a San Clemente favorite for a hearty Italian feast.

I actually have made myself a plan for three writing projects and I think I might even DO them! Well, one of them at least. The short one! More on that later.

And, the other day I listened to As My Guitar Sadly Weeps and felt very sad to see my old gal sitting dusty and alone in the corner. I don't even think I can play anymore. But what if I could. What if I got out one of those old books and just picked around, so to speak?


Just got this page painted. Thinking the sentiment is where I am hanging out.

Here's what I'm thinking. Am I weird or do you like to look into your house from outside? It's like seeing the room for the first time, every time. I think that's because it's a metaphor for looking at myself from the outside once in awhile.
Everything looks different, I notice things I do not realize when I'm in there.
I think that's what I'm doing these days. Looking in instead of out. Interesting view!

Ahhhh

Things are starting to feel like home here. When we moved to So Cal some 30 years ago we found a house and lifestyle that we stayed in for 18 years. Then we moved to the ranch which was only 6 miles away, door to door. Same neighborhoods, stores, restaurants, doctors and, maybe most important of all, same friends. We enjoyed our 14 years in the wilds and have now been "at the beach" for 6 months. This move was, however, a much bigger deal. Maybe even bigger than moving from Ohio. Young kids really direct your life as did the jobs we had. We quickly found our way and it seemed no time at all and our lives were up and running.  We delight at the visits and lasting friendships with the people who have become so important to us in the past 30 years. I treasure these friends and hope to always have them in my life but the reality is that day to day contact is difficult to maintain with everyone's busy schedules. Even on the level of family, things have changed. While we enjoy seeing much more of the kids to whom we are now closer, we miss the regular contact we had with the kids who live closer to the ranch. But it is important to me to maintain a life that does not burden my children with the responsibility of keeping me company and entertained!

Coming here, just the two of us, just out of reach of our old connections has required conscious effort to get established. And we are! Finding our favorite places to eat and shop, got new docs and making new friends. The husband has joined a service club and I have found some of my people at a the delightful painting class I've blogged about recently. These talented people who taught me the finer points of painting, mandalas and thankga, allowed me to share my messy world of art journaling with them. Here is what a day of wild mind journaling with them led me to.

       




                                         


Now, thanks to my daughter's introduction and my own gutsy butting into a conversation I overheard in a restaurant, I have new writing pals who I recognize as more of my people. After all, a woman does not live on comfortable houses and fantastic views alone! There will surely be many posts about these creative folks and the amazing things I know I will learn from them.

I am even using the range and ovens in this place! Yes, I am cooking a bit, which is a bit more than I have been cooking lately. The cold rainy days of winter have brought out the soup maker in me.

My creation, Chicken Vegetable Tortellini Soup

I really miss the wildlife at the ranch, but am finding new connections to the beasties as well. I have always loved pelicans and, while I cannot enjoy them from the house, I look for them at the beach. Click on this photo to get a look at this beauty.

 And there is plenty of this 

and this 

to be enjoyed simply by making a stop on the way from one errand to another. I like that a lot.

So, here's what I'm thinking; Blooming where you are planted is clearly a choice. Seems I have learned that Life is game best enjoyed from the field, not the bleachers. If I wear my heart on my sleeve, I will be recognized by kindred spirits.  And, note to self, never ever take the abundance and gifts of all that is holy for granted!

A Little This, A Little That

Dreams

Dreams are lapses in memory

Tiny boats untethered

Floating aimlessly

Ropes brutally severed

Or gently slipped

 by lapping silken tides

Lm 1/12/2013

Nativity of a Poem

I read something

that reminds me of something

that leads me to recall 

something else

A forgotten feeling stirs

and a poem, bloody and bawling

Is pushed  into the world

Lm 1/12/2013

Speaking of dreams, while playing in my journal, just sort of drifting, this came out. I really don't know what it is about, especially the man holding the baby, but it feels familiar, maybe recalling my ice skating days in Ohio.

Examine

Examine the familiar words

And consider only the surface

Upon which they are written

Examine a long love 

And consider only the

Void in which it lingers

1/12/2013

When your heart is broken

You swear revenge

You cry over commercials

You howl at the moon

You don't eat

You eat too much

When your heart is broken

You say you don't care

That you saw it coming

That you must be crazy

You are awake all night

You oversleep every morning

When your heart is broken

You are afraid it's your fault

You keep it a secret

Then you tell everyone

Even strangers

You scream in the car

When your heart is broken

You burn for an embrace

You scream "don't touch me"

You drop things and lose things

You say "Never again"

You cook and you clean

When your heart is broken

You write bad poetry.

lm 2/3/2013

False Hope

I heard, " what's happening between the two of us"

"What?"

He said, "The restaurant where we are meeting, 

is half way between the two of us"

1/12/2013

Rogue

The rogue branch

so much higher, so much sturdier, 

so much shiner than the rest, 

crowned with a withering bud

sucked dry by minutiae, 

a beacon of unfulfilled promise.

I stretch, 

the heavy pruning shears 

shaking at the limits of my reach,

I loose my footing and fall, 

face first, into the thorny tangle 

of the embarrassed bush

1/12/2013

Consequences

You get it from dancing in the streets

The only cure is walking to school

in the snow, uphill both ways

But even if you recover

You will have scars deep within 

Awful keloids that grow and grow

Until eventually they impede vital functions 

It leaves you with a lingering malaise

That flares up when the weather changes

It's quite awful, really, and gets worse as you age

So if you get it don't come crying to me

You've been warned about dancing in the streets

Lm 1/27/2013

Here's what I'm thinking on this foggy night: If you hung in there and read all of this, you know what I'm thinking! Peace to all.

Change

I think I am finally settled in and looking forward to more time in my new art space. This is quite a different view than I had at the ranch, but I can leave the door open without worrying about visitors. You know, mice, lizards and of course rattlesnakes. A bit hazy today but that gray area is the powerful Pacific which feeds my soul just as the mountains fed me for the last 14 years.

My "old" writers group friends helped me christen this space shortly after we moved in and last week my new painting pals added more mojo by joining me here for a day of Art Journal making. It feels good to be finding "my people". Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver, the other gold." My mother taught me that.

I wish I had taken photos of everyone's work. Some great books went out of here. This is the one I made with its crooked frog. These are large old wooden printing blocks from India originally used for fabric making. I always forget that the handles on top are a bit wonky.

It just didn't feel finished and later that night when I was sorting through the linens I brought with me I came across this old, old, old crocheted table cloth that belonged to my great aunt and had graced my table for many wonderful feasts. It is, heartbreakingly, falling apart. And I said to myself, hmmmmmm.

Now, I think the book is finished. I like the way it looks and it feels divine. All texturey and bumpy. And of course, there are threads and beads and things dangling out.

I can never wait, even though I have several yet unfilled journals, I always HAVE to do something in a new book to make it mine.

This is the inside back cover. See the great stamp my daughter, Laura Bray, gave me last year?

Did any of you feel the earth move last week? It wasn't an earthquake or some sort of Cosmic Shift. I COOKED! Made the chili that earned me a trophy two different times at Chili Cook Off events, back when I used to cook.

Last week I put up a photo on Facebook of this old guy all cozy on the couch. His idea of change is apparently moving from the couch to bed and back to the couch. He is the master of relaxing, when he's not terrifying visitors.

Then there is the kind of change that is the bedrock of life on this planet. See that little girl? Boy has she changed in the last 60+ years. And those two crazy kids who are her parents? One has made the BIG change and the other is 83 and waiting to catch up with him again. I wonder what has become of that car.

Here's what I'm thinking: Maybe change isn't real. Maybe we just move along, every year, every month, week, day, hour, minute, second through what is actually one continuous event. Maybe we have invented the concept of change to explain the magic of new friends becoming old friends, new places becoming familiar places, new adventures becoming old habits. Maybe my Dad is all settled in his "new" place thinking it feels like he's always lived there. Maybe there is only here and only now.