Farm Sweet Home (June 21, 2010)

We love our farm. Our farm is in the suburbs, beside the driveway, between our house and the neighbor’s fence, and next to the garage. So maybe it’s not how most farms are laid-out. And maybe it’s not really a farm! But I’m feeling all gung-ho because today the first two peaches of the season fell off one of our trees. They’re both ripe and so our peach season officially has begun.

In 21st-centry America, most people get their produce from a grocery store. We’re no exception. When you choose fruit at the store, you know it was grown somewhere, but you don’t see it happen. So it’s exciting to bear witness to the process. Each spring we see our trees put forth their first tiny green leaves and in the summer we watch as doll-sized fruit becomes bigger, more colorful and eventually, ready for picking. It’s easy to get fruit from the store, but it’s gratifying to pick it yourself, at home. The first two peaches to jump off the tree are yellowish-orange-colored, between a golf ball and tennis ball in size, and they smell sweet. Is it a coincidence that they ripened and left the tree on the first official day of summer? Who knows? But it sure feels like summer is here….

Isn't That Where Everyone Keeps it? (June 18, 2010)

It seems I was a little distracted recently (for about the last six years, if you want to be technical). In cleaning up one morning, I may have put things into cabinets (okay, ROOMS) where they don't usually reside...

Hey, life is going to be full of wacky moments. I might as well laugh about it!

Ahh, the Simple Pleasures (June 18, 2010)

Today I cut into a perfectly ripe, gorgeous pineapple. It was just the right combination of sweet and tart, and I was inspired to blog about it. Not all blog pieces need to be about the milestones in life. It's about whatever inspires you at the time....

When I picked out the pineapple at Costco I thought it had potential because I sniffed it and didn't smell much. In the past I've picked ones that smelled great. But I've learned the hard way that if your pineapple smells really ripe in the store, it's already starting to rot.

Eating a piece of beautifully ripe pineapple is one of life's simple joys. A blog piece in its honor seemed appropriate. After all, life is about the small moments that make you happy....

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning (May 31, 2010)

Two days ago the hubby and I hiked to the top of Cowles Mountain. It’s not very far from where we live, but far enough away that you only find yourself there with some planning. We hadn’t been up there together in at least five years. Something to do with the three-kid juggle. But our babysitter was available, and we realized it we didn’t do it then, it might be another year before it occurred to us!

There were plenty of other people who had the same idea. Hikers and trail runners scurried up and down the mountain as we arrived and I took the opportunity to people-watch. There were hikers of all ages and nationalities: preschool-aged kids on up to a grandma or two motoring down the trail. We passed college students, families, and solo hikers. Some had tattoos, some Ipods, and one man even wore flip-flops. Sometimes we exchanged hellos. A place like Cowles gives you the opportunity to share the land with others but also a chance to experience it at your own pace and through your own eyes. Everyone takes something different away from the experience.

We reached the top and took a few minutes to absorb the 360-degree view. The mountain’s peak is 1,592 feet above sea level, making it the city’s highest point. To the west I saw Point Loma, downtown and Mt. Soledad. To the south was bright blue Lake Murray and out east Mt. Helix stood tall. Filling in the gaps were what make up a city: roads, cars, trees, parks, schools and residential neighborhoods, all the pieces fitting together like a mosaic. The tidy rows of homes below in Del Cerro looked like Monopoly houses with their identical pitched roofs. Somehow it always gives me a sense of peace, looking down on the city. I notice how small the houses are in the grand scheme of things, and I’m reminded that my life (worries, frustrations and all) is just a teeny piece of something much larger than I am. The view from up high literally gives me a different perspective, and that’s a good thing.

When we weren’t gazing into the distance, we studied the wild flowers blooming just off the trail. We smelled wild sage, and touched flowers with petals the size of a pin head. There were car-sized boulders dotting the reddish-brown dirt and not one piece of litter. It seems Cowles’ hikers respect her.

We hiked on the Saturday before Memorial Day. Although our decision to hike at Cowles had nothing to do with the holiday weekend itself, it seems fitting for this reason: Memorial Day is a day that unites all Americans. We collectively appreciate those who have fought for our country’s safety and freedoms. Like the hikers atop Cowles Mountain, Americans are a diverse group. Each of us approaches life differently: some race up and down the trail, pushing themselves to the limit. Others go slowly, stopping to smell flowers and watch lizards. Some listen to music on their journey, some talk and others go to hear the wind in the scrub brush. Same trail, different motivations. But those who seek out Cowles share an appreciation for the mountain, just as all Americans—diverse as we are—can unite in our love of America. I gazed out over my county, and felt grateful for the strength and spirit of America. A beautiful morning indeed…

The Joy of Repurposing (April 15, 2010)

If you don’t browse thrift stores, you don’t know the fun of discovering a treasure hidden among the coffee mugs, sweaters and love-worn toys. The only rule of thumb for thrift stores is not to expect to find a specific item. Thrift stores, after all, are the gathering place of all things random. But stumbling upon something intriguing is what makes it cool.

A few days ago I treated myself to a thrift store gem. In the household goods section of the store I happened upon a ceramic candle holder, hand-made and glazed with various colors. At 99 cents, I couldn’t argue, and I knew immediately what my plans for it were.

Inside the candle holder there was a wad of wax gripping one wall of the cone-shaped interior. Perhaps the original owner didn’t know how to remove the melted candle and instead opted to give the holder away. I couldn’t believe someone would want to part with a one-of-a-kind piece of art, but I was glad to adopt it on the spot.

At home I turned on my hair dryer and aimed it at the candle holder. A few minutes later the wax was pliable enough to remove. I stuffed some dirt into the cavity and chose a few succulents from my collection outside. Being a plant junkie, I know that I can repot succulents with roots (and even those without roots). I tucked a few pieces into the dirt, ensuring that the plant was peeking out the cut-outs in the pottery. There were six tiny almond-shaped windows on each side of the opening of this piece, and I thought it would look great to see the plants growing out of the peek-holes. The fact that the piece is slightly asymmetrical just added to its charm. The irregularity it what makes hand-made art unique.

The hodge-podge nature of thrift stores makes them great places to go to exercise your creative muscle. Take something that calls to you and turn it into something else. Voila!

Bring on Spring! (March 19, 2010)

Every February I notice with glee that something has arrived, changing everything overnight. Even if the skies are gloomy over gray miles of concrete connecting San Diego, when the freeway flowers bloom overnight, my whole world looks bright. The highlighter-orange flowers pop up from the ice plant bordering the freeways, their blossoms like spiky heads of hair, poking in all directions. There are also yellow ones, fuchsia flowers and this year, even some purple blooms. Our rainy winter is paying dividends.

Some people might find the brightness of these flowers to be too much. Others may prefer exotic flowers that must be carefully tended in a greenhouse. Not me. I love that these bright spots of color thrive with no planned watering. Their brightness is exactly why I dig them so much. They aren’t pale pastels, timid and unobtrusive. NO! They are bold and vibrant, the equivalent of a cheer, when other flowers are whispering.

Even in San Diego where sunshine, not snow, marks our winter, spring makes a grand entrance. I started noticing the freeway flowers about a month ago, but now they are heralding Spring in full force, parading down the freeways’ edges in random bunches. Tomorrow is the first day of spring, according to my calendar, but for several weeks flowers have started to bloom everywhere. Tiny fruits, the size of green peas, have crept out of the branches of our peach tree. Brand-new green leaves dot trees that were bare a few weeks ago. It’s a coordinated explosion of life, and I am thrilled each year when it starts. I wonder if we’ll have a newborn batch of hummingbirds in the nest hidden in our Jasmine vine, as we did last April. Suddenly, everything seems different. Daylight Savings started six nights ago and the days already feel warmer. The growth and warmth and colors all bring such optimism. It’s hard not to feel happy as this season arrives.

Spring? Yes, please!

Football Fever (Jan. 17,2010)

My first mistake was assuming that there wouldn’t be many people there on a Sunday morning. Of course, things are different on a Sunday when there’s a big game. The grocery store was busy. Usually I don’t pay much attention to sports but I do know that the Super Bowl is 3 weeks from now so today’s game was a big one. I started counting Chargers shirts and jerseys in the parking lot. There were dozens. I saw them in the produce department, on check-out clerks and in the snack aisle, where one lady was loading her cart with bags of chips the size of bed pillows, for a super-sized football party, no doubt.

My second mistake was assuming that I could hold and breastfeed my newborn with one hand while pushing the shopping cart with the other. It was do-able for a long time, but the cart finally became heavy and harder to steer in the last two aisles, where I bought 2 gallons of milk and 3 liters of diet soda. No, I told the clerk, I didn’t need help out. Eleven bags of groceries plus the milk, but I’m a first-born, determined to do things myself.

On the drive home a vintage car bounced happily ahead of me, the huge thunderbolt flag above it doing the hula in the breeze. Another car had small flags sticking up from each passenger door. My son’s school allowed the kids to wear Chargers shirts or colors on Friday. Did San Diego have football fever? It felt like it. And it felt contagious. I’ve never been a sports fan but even I felt the excitement building in the city.

I wanted to blog about it, but by the time I got back from a birthday party and onto the computer I’d learned that the Chargers lost today’s game. But I’m writing nonetheless because what although their season is over, something else is still there. When your city is part of the playoffs, maybe it’s not really about the game, the team or the Super Bowl itself. What moved me wasn’t the chance to be swept up in the tidal wave of victory. No, to me the sudden sea f blue shirts represented something much bigger, much more important: a sense of unity. I liked seeing kids, grandmas, bankers and bikers all unified. In a city as big as San Diego people race around, leading their lives, rushing to or from work, living near other people but without interacting. People may not know their neighbors or spend the time to find common ground with those around them. The number of blue shirts was a physical sign that we as people have a lot in common. Sports doesn’t need to be the catalyst for coming together, but if it is, so be it. Whatever inspires us to search for what we have in common with others is valid. Although today’s game ended poorly for San Diego, it heartened me to see people united. Maybe it will inspire us to find other ways to come together with those around us…