Light/Breezes

Light/Breezes
SUNRISE AT DEATH VALLEY-Photo by Tom Cochrun
Showing posts with label Old Tree. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old Tree. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

THE NEW BLACK? REMEMBERING A GHOST TREE

CHOOSING THE NEW COLOR
       So it seems orange is the new "in" color of the season.
What do I know about fashion and color? Trips to France sensitized me to shifting color preferences. Friends wanted to know what the new fashion season revealed as the color we'd be seeing more of so I made a point of paying attention. 
         This year I saw a lot of orange in Palm Springs and environs, among some of the lovely patrons of the Indian Wells Tennis tournament, in shops and I see it is showing up elsewhere. I certainly have no pedigree from Ralph Lauren University, so I could be entirely wrong. And as a further qualifier, my idea of good color is blue and grey.  
        Anyway, California's central coast is painted by nature. It's a seasonal switch that cranks up the swatch palette. 











A FINAL STAND
   Aside from humans and elephants, trees get my vote for favorite life form on this blue planet. Old trees get  maximum respect. They don't travel of course but they observe the years, even centuries and leave a record. Talk about zen mellow!
    Seeing a stump serves an encouragement. Old roots remain in mother earth and the space above is reserved for the memory of a sentry or watcher.

  See you down the trail.

Monday, March 31, 2014

A CHANGE WE HATE TO SEE AND A METAPHOR IN AN ICON NEIGHBORHOOD

TOUGH GOOD BYES
    Life in the village truly is idyllic. That's not just a fanciful idea. People are active, they live long lives, most of us develop our eccentricities or particularities and there are indeed many characters. Living between the Pacific and the Santa Lucia mountains on ridges, valleys, beaches, Monterey Pine and California Oak forests we often say this is not like the rest of the world. So when life, like every where else intrudes our romantic sense of delusion is shocked and saddened.
      Peter Wolff was one of the characters in this charming and curious drama of Cambria. A big deal international business executive and thinker, Wolff has been one of our leading men, not because of his professional resume, but because of his one of a kind personality.
      The first time I met Peter he said, "So I hear you were really a big deal journalist.  Everybody here has a life like that. The only thing that really matters now is how good is your serve?"
      Peter had a brilliant mind and usually gave you 3 or 4 answers to any question you asked and usually had you chuckling. Peter and his foursome played at the other end of the tennis complex, but you would always hear him. 
      Over the years I've been fortunate to study with him, share committee work with him, relax and enjoy his company. Usually he had me laughing with his dry wit, sardonic humor and insight.
      Something went wrong after a surgery and after a rough go Peter left this party Sunday. His family was with him and we are told he was being his usual feisty and funny self.
      Phil, who's history with Peter goes back a couple of decades said he never thought anything could take him. A lot of us thought that. 
      Peter played regularly with John Brannon, the colorful newspaper columnist whom we enjoyed even years before our move here.  Peter and John could be, well, feisty and not always in agreement on a play or a call and so their matches gained a degree of notoriety. Brannon just left for a new life in Southern California and now Peter is gone.
      As if to remind us that we can not control change, yesterday was the day we bid farewell to another longtime village couple.  Barbara and Paul are wonderful and joyful people who depart to be closer to a daughter who can attend to their needs. Barbara, a local gal, seemed always to smile. She had a wicked cross court shot though, even if it seemed out of character to her gentle, California girl manner.  Paul is a retired Wall Street Journal man and a fount of knowledge and a crafty tennis game. He is in every sense of the word, a true gentleman.  They are delightful people.
      As some of the crowd gathered at coffee this morning we were heavy hearted, certainly for those who are gone or departing, but also because it reminds of how fleeting it can all be, even here.
STILL A TRACE
     Remains an ancient tree devolve in front of a Warren Leopold post house. The tree likely sheltered the maverick architect as he sat in his mobile work desk or perhaps camped while designing and building the house in the last century.
    It also shaded a Dome home.
        Another tree now stands tallest on an icon corner in Cambria.
      A few blocks away, an opportune intersection and another memorable building, perhaps with aspirations.
   See you down the trail.

Monday, April 16, 2012

WOULDN'T IT BE NICE & THEY DON'T BUILD LIKE THIS ANYMORE

WOULDN'T IT BE NICE
    Now the Obama vs Romney match is on, we may get an opportunity to see a national debate about the role, scope and intent of the federal government.  Though both are Harvard men and technocrats, they apparently possess different visions.  It would be nice if the campaign remained focused on that.  Sadly though, it appears big money, super pacs and huge advertising budgets will steal the plot and establish the tone and probable shallowness of the campaign.
      It would be nice if the media would forego being manipulated and spun by the ad dollars and their masters. Better if they'd stop the pundit pontificating and over zealous devotion to the "horse race" and odds sequences and shape the discussion about visions of America's future and how we get there via the Romney or Obama route.
      Wouldn't it be nice?
DAY BOOK
BUILT TO LAST
I was impressed by what I call "Federal Style" grandeur evident in the building at the Hoover Dam.  Buildings constructed in the 1930's remain impressive today in 
their stateliness, sense of artistic design and that little touch of deco.
Someone makes sure, but even today those
brass doors shine like new.

And after 70 years the marble with brass inlay "signs" are 
as classy as anything new.
SOME TIMES OLD CAN'T LAST
Here's a quick tribute to a tree that was a young windbreak
about the time of the Hoover Dam construction.
See you down the trail.