Around here...and as always....

Cambria court wash

        April rain is rare on the California central coast, not being an"April showers brings May flowers" kind of place. 

    Blooms begin in February, during the fall and winter rain season. The .7 from this storm put our rain for the year at a little over 16 inches. That's a decent total during a drought year. 

    During our time on Pineridge we've swung from 42 inches to as little as 8. The coastal weather is vulnerable to ocean influence, mountains, and a high atmosphere intrigue called a Pacific Decadal Oscillation. 

          A spring moon on Pineridge may have helped turn on a cactus. Its bloom was dazzling. 

        An Oyster mushroom is back for a third harvest. A kit, given as a Christmas gift produced a batch of mushrooms and a surprising second batch. Even more suprisingly number three volunteered itself.

        Lana's magic in the saute' pan was a fitting, even if a less beautiful disposition of the artful fungus. Delicious! 

         

        As we've begun to return to the more robust style of pre pandemic life, a lot of folks have begun to say they feel aged, or unsettled by the last 2 years. A piece of life was held hostage, and now we attempt to come again to what was before, but we and life itself have been changed by it. 

        The simple rhythm of life has the assurance of normal, while absurdities of the human fall menace from our screens.

     World leaders must task themselves to find a better way to prevent barbarism and aggression and to punish those who perpetrate it.

        American voters certainly are wise to the soulless and ripping attack to the constitutional heart of the American system by the gang of cowards, liars, low-life, hustlers and haters who have stolen or who remain as condonation in the republican party.

        Savoring the quiet life has distracted from the brutality of  war crimes and the attack on our democratic republic.

    

        In volunteer work this week I was fortunate to see lights of human decency. Our capacity to care, to serve and to be about common good is hopeful.

        I'm coming to understand a constant. 

        As we probe more deeply into our majority years, we come upon truths of life in personal and cosmic ways. It is ever so. 

        We see now our good old days were myopic. As old girls and boys we tread in times of war, regressive ideas, uncertainty and threat. They were never far away in our middle years, nor have they ever been in the rise of humanity.

        We are where those before us have been, wondering what is to become of humanity. 

       Life is always on a razor's edge. 

                   

             Always spring comes and hope is alive.

            And there is always dinner....

        Peace

        See you down the trail.

        

         

 

We Lost a Great Bud and Local Fire Update

Bud

     Bud Goff was a guy who made you think you could go on forever. 

     Several years ago as I was learning to play tennis I was invited to substitute in a foursome that had been together for a number of years, only later would I learn how long that was.

     When Dr. Ed moved from Cambria I was invited to join Bud, Ellie and Jim every Thursday morning at 7:30, year round. These were crafty, veteran players who knew angles, spin and shot placement. They called Ellie a backboard, always returned shots. Jim, who was a physicist had learned some of the most vicious spin and English you can imagine. And then there was Bud who ran like a deer, as a lefty he could drill you with a serve and was as proficient at the net and getting to it, as anyone.  

      A relatively new retiree, I knew I was younger. I figured Bud was maybe mid to late 70's. A few years ago when a fellow was subbing with us he asked Bud how old he was. Bud said he was 88. My jaw dropped. Some 4-5 years later, just a few months ago, Bud had a pacemaker installed. He took about three weeks off and came to the court. He'd ask to take a break once in a while when we first began the days play as he said to "let everything get in sync." Frankly I worried a bit but he continued to play an aggressive and skilled game and he loved it. 

      A couple of weeks ago, Bud did not show up. He was usually the first person to the court. I called his beloved Viv and she said he'd had a heart issue. They gave him a stent.

      He got home in a couple of days and as we talked on the phone he said he was ready to come back, but then he began to feel ill. He was readmitted to the hospital. 

       I spoke with Bud three days ago. He told me what he had been diagnosed with and said as soon as they finished the chemo therapy he'd back on the court "probably in a couple of weeks."  In the mean time he said he just wanted to "get back living again."  He hated being in a hospital bed.  I told him that traffic at the farmers market last week was backed up on Main Street, something that never happened when he was the fellow in control. He greeted everyone, had a treat for kids and pets and got all the cars parked. I told him the traffic jam was probably because everybody was asking about him.  He chuckled.

       He told me my daughter, a nurse, had visited with him and he spoke glowingly about her. I told him we hoped to see him back on the court in a couple of weeks and he said he'd be there.  Bud passed away yesterday, while undergoing treatment.

      He was 92, maybe 93. I don't know what you picture when you see a 92 year old man, but I'll bet it isn't a picture of Bud. He smiled all the time. Was fit, trim and as noted, he ran on the court like a deer. He recently bought a new car and was talking about programming the radio. Same with a new smart phone. There'd be days when he'd stop the play to point out a beautiful cloud formation, or watch hawks soar and chuckle at the calves as they ran on a nearby grazing slope. He was a gentleman, a coach and mentor, civic volunteer and he seemed ageless. I'll miss my Thursday mornings with Bud, but I'll remember him well and with a smile.

local fire update

    The Chimney fire east of the Santa Lucia mountains in northern San Luis Obispo county has become a source of anxiety for those of us on the coast.

   Air quality has been affected when the wind pushes smoke and ash our way. It is being able to see the blaze that has claimed some 12-13 thousand acres that is disquieting. 

It is less than 40 percent contained and the southern track is in rugged wilderness where it is difficult to fight. 

      The famed Hearst Castle is to the south in San Simeon. The private Hearst ranch has begun to move animals. Locals are paying close attention and wondering. Friends in San Simeon have begun to prepare for evacuation, just in case.

    There are two fires on the Central Coast, the Soberanes fire north of Big Sur and the Chimney Road fire in near Lake Nacimiento.  There are currently 22 major fires in California.

     This is a state with a history of battling wild fires and the skill level is extraordinary.  It is a huge budget item for the state and people who have been here a long time have learned to live with the risk. We are getting better about that, but we still keep a wary eye on the smoke plumes and anticipate hearing that containment has been achieved.

      See you down the trail.

PICTURE PERFECT & WAITING FOR THE NEXT DANCE

GLORIOUS SPRING

   Spring blooms spray the hills rolling to the Pacific behind Cayucos California.

   Echium bathes in spring sun.

   Color explodes.

    A wind chime serenades.

   Walkers trek to iconic Morro Rock.

    Walking on water?

   A box set. Hemingway and Joy ready for a snooze.

CONFESSIONS OF A BASKETBALL JUNKIE

     It's tough now. The Big Dance is over, the confetti has been swept away. It ended well, one of the most competitive and hard fought games in the history of the men's championships, but that makes it tougher, the withdrawal harder. 

      When Villanova's Kris Jenkins left fly a three point buzzer beater, basketball fans were in ecstasy. North Carolina and Villanova had spent 39 minutes and 58 seconds of extraordinary athletic and emotional effort. After a month of tourney play when 66 other teams had failed to get to the summit, that a game could come down to a final shot with two seconds left is an exhilaration stupendous.

       But now it's over. No more Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sundays of back to back games. That unique harmonic rush of arenas full of thousands cheering, balls and shoes on hardwood, rims rattling, the CBS sports theme, announcers and analysts who become like friends and neighbors no longer fill the sound scape.

      Growing up in Indiana, home of Hoosiers, and the Hoosiers, Bulldogs, Boilermakers, Cardinals and Fighting Irish this guy fell in love with the game.  We started playing in the second and third grade. High School basketball is a thing of legend the world knows because of the above mentioned Hoosiers. But college basketball is my addiction and that jones is fevered during March. It is indeed a madness, but April brings the hard comedown.  

       I get mildly interested in the NBA playoffs but it is somehow different, less passionate and without the same buzz. My daughters remind me some of their happy family memories include the almost festive air of the home during basketball season, the aroma of chili, or pizza or chicken wings, or burgers in the air with that hypnotic audio mix of a game on the tv and dad and mom in varying states of enthusiasm or despair. Now we must wait another year as we rehab and withdraw. 

      But there are sports classic channels and youtube. And course there is tennis, which conveniently fills the calendar. I love tennis. I no longer play basketball, but I play tennis and I love to watch it. The Opens and the Slams are great, but it is oh so quiet and there are no last second shots!

    See you down the trail.

IN A TIME OF HEROES

SHAPE AND TEXTURE

A few scenes from around the house, including a lemon tree next to Indiana-
the raised bed of flat tillable soil on the hill side.
HEROES

    Are there enough heroes? Can kids find the real thing when the big screen rocks with fantasy creations and while game screens spew violent destroyers? Do they still matter?

      Here is an account of a down to earth superhero and inspiration. His name is Bud Goff. He's not a hulk, probably even a little shorter than average. He's got gray hair but his eyes sparkle with life. A smile is his normal visage. If you've been to the Farmer's Market in Cambria you've probably seen this hero, directing traffic and conversing with everyone driving in while he hands out sweet treats. He's human sunshine that way.

     For many years he's played a major role in the annual community festival, Pinedorado. He plans, he buys, he schedules, he lifts, he works and he's there.

     I see Bud in a different light, in fact in the early light of dawn every Thursday morning on the tennis court. Fog, cold, glaring sun peaking over the mountain, heat, no matter the weather or conditions he's the first at the court and waiting for the foursome to arrive. 

     He's a lefty and he's got a serve that can break right at you, or away from you in an exasperating bounce. He's fast, dashing from near the baseline for a volley at the net, or moving to get a shot breaking to the alley. At the net, Bud is one of the most tenacious and proficient I've seen. It's near impossible to score on him, but he can put away passing and cross court shots you can't get to. He's got a drop shot that can kill you. He has coached and still offers advice.

     Despite his considerable tennis skills, Bud just delights in being on the court and out in the morning. He'll notice hawks soaring, or the geometry of contrails, or notice the loping of calves on the grazing slope behind the court. No matter how close the match, or good or bad the play, Bud's incantation is "We're just out here having fun you know!"

      Between games he'll tell us about something new he's read, an oddity he's heard about, show us a new phone or tell us a joke. Just two weeks ago he gave us a demonstration of a new way to tie shoes!

      As we were heading out to the court this morning he asked, "Who do you think is the oldest person to play on these courts?" Jim and Ellie and I offered well it could have been Ed Simonsen, he played until he was 91.

      "Well…," Bud paused

      That's when Jim said "You just had a birthday!"

       "Yea, I'm 92."

       We all gave him a fist bump, wished him a happy birthday. He went out and started driving that left handed liner of a serve.

        In my book, Bud is a real hero, and an inspiration!

        Who are your heroes?

       See you down the trail.

      

       

FIVE STAR EXCELLENCE

CLASS IN THE DESERT
And on the screen
*Notes about Matthew and Woody below

    Since our move to California Cambria friends have sung the praises of the Indian Wells Tennis tournament in the southern California desert. Now we understand.

     A remarkable tennis oasis and "theatre." Stadium 1 is new.

   Stadium 2

   and several smaller stadiums, all blessed with stunning views.

  A complex of practice courts put you up close and personal

with the game's stars.

   Below Australian Open Champ, and number 3 in the world Stan Wawrinka tunes up.

   The close access to the game's headliners is a benefit of Indian Wells.

  Amenities abound in the Tennis Garden.

  The great thrill for fans is of course the action on the court. Roger Federer, on left below, is one of the game's all time greatest. 

   I've covered Presidents, rock stars, other major sports heroes. I was thrilled to see Fed.

   As impressive as Rafa Nadal is on television, he is even more so live and in person.

  Alexandra Wozniak

  Maria Sharapova and up and comer Camile Giorgi. Etc, Etc, etc...

    Among all of the sports, tennis fans are special.  Polite, cheering good play as well as their favorite.  Here it is 88-90 degrees, blazing desert sun and the stadium is full. 

   And since this is the desert a full day of tennis may well be capped by a dip, 

   and a cool drink and dinner.

  Many such oasis abound. A kind of desert survival.

ONE OF THE BEST 

   Much has been said of the noir HBO thriller True Detective as critics and fans have blown the doors off joint with praise and acclaim. As I've noted, it is not for everyone, but the Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson performances are without peer. And their "partnership" maybe the greatest on any screen. It is one of those rare moments when two excellent actors hit a zone and then construct an onscreen chemistry that will become legend.  I'm sorry the series has ended. They were nothing short of brilliant.

   See you down the trail.