I Left My Heart in San Francisco

We paint our memories in vivid colors across the canvas of life. As the refrains of the song echo in my mind, I can remember so clearly the evening Bill and I walked into our San Francisco hotel, my first time on American soil. A young man at the grand piano in the lobby was playing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” and from that moment I fell under its spell. It became one of our two most favorite cities in the world, filled with magic and romance.

What a treat when nephew James invited me to spend the long weekend out there. I don’t think I have ever been spoilt quite like that before. He went over the top, leaving me open mouthed, a big “Wow!” hanging on my lips as each new moment unfolded.

The first pleasure was being met by James and his delightful girlfriend, Dana, at the airport, temperatures cold, a blustery heavy rain falling. But the warmth of the welcome was like a big umbrella. We dodged the showers, laughing in the fun of new discoveries. A noisy, friendly, English-style pub jammed with a wildly eclectic mix shoulder-to-shoulder on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Sharing the umbrella as the rain spattered on the water and boats at anchor at the deserted marina. The hilly streets around Berkeley, intriguing shops lining hip neighborhoods.

Claremont Hotel

The gracious Claremont perched on a tree-covered hillside, presiding in the elegant glory of her colorful history. Exchanging stories of our lives over drinks in P.F. Changs, and then a wondrous meal in the best company, oblivious to the steady rain falling glistening on the lamplit streets.

Next morning James and I visited a local Uniting Methodist Church – his choice for our spiritual nourishment. Discovering the call of God on your life was the theme. God couldn’t have been speaking more plainly. When tears prick my eyes, and escape their retraints to slip down my cheek, I always know the Spirit of God is there. And so He was. In power and tenderness, reaching in to the core.





 

Anything goes in San Fran!

                James’ next treat was an incredible Sunday Jazz Brunch at Scott’s in Walnut Creek. One delicious dish after another. Imagine four different types of Eggs Benedict! Elegant, tasteful, friendly, and mimosas that were mysteriously always full. Then we hopped a ride on BART – the Bay Area Rapid Transit – into San Francisco, and wandered the hilly streets of this fair city.



“Wait here while I talk to someone,” instructed James, glancing at his watch. He chatted to the concierge outside the Hilton Hotel, then led me round the corner and down the hill, stopping beside a red and white mini bus. He pointed to the sign on the back of the bus, grinning broadly. “San Francisco Helicopters” it proclaimed. Oh my gosh! I was speechless. A dream come true to fly over San Francisco Bay.

Our Bell 206 Jet Ranger rose above the airport and flew northward along the western perimeter of the city. Paragliders glinted silver in the afternoon sun, hovering over the cliffs south of Ocean Beach. Flying between 500 and 1000 feet, we admired the neat grids of whitewashed houses, almost able to determine the make and model of cars driving down the road. We flew low over the Presidio on a straight line to the sharp red pylons of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning San Francisco Bay. She was beautiful in the clear California sunshine. And then…what a surprise…we flew under the Golden Gate Bridge, almost skimming the tops of sailboats heeling in the brisk breeze below! Too cool! “Can we do that again?” I begged the pilot, but he shook his head ‘No.’

Then on past Alcatraz, once a formidable prison where all but a few of the handful of inmates who escaped were either shot or drowned in the treacherous, cold waters of San Francisco Bay. We circled low over landmarks in the hilly city by the Bay, Fisherman’s Wharf bustling with tourists, the marina filled with boats from around the world packed in like sardines, A T & T Park - home stadium for the San Francisco Giants, and over the pylons of the Oakland Bay Bridge that links San Francisco with Oakland and Berkeley.

That evening, after the mandatory chilly stroll through Fisherman’s Wharf, we joined the patrons of the Buena Vista, reknowned for its Irish coffees. Would you believe everyone at the bar was drinking Irish coffees? It’s true! And they were the best!

Monday we followed Highway 1 down the California coast, savoring the stunning scenery, quaint coastal towns, steep cliffs, lighthouses, fertile fields of artichokes and bright yellow oilseed rape. As the sun dipped low on the horizon we clambered over rocks along the beach at Pacific Grove, until daylight faded into dusk and the brisk ocean breeze encouraged us to turn for home. A brief stop at Cannery Row in Monterey reminded us of the history of this area, vividly portrayed in John Steinbeck’s novel of the same name.

The weekend was over all too soon. Closeness renewed with nephew James, who had spent a year with us in Tennessee during his teens, and become more like a son. Now a mature young man making his way in the world. Bill would have felt as proud as I did. More memories to add to this city that has always captured my heart.

And the Snow Keeps Coming...

The seventh snow this winter arrived today, blowing horizontally, and moving in so quickly that some school buses up in Robertson County got stranded on some of the hilly back roads. It meant Kathy and I got to leave work early, and by the time I reached the top of the ridge it had already been transformed into a snowy wonderland. Tree limbs covered in white frosting, a dusting beginning to stick to the roads. Kathy’s husband, Joel, had called to tell her there was 3 inches in Springfield and she’d better head home.

The wonderful side benefits of these quite frequent snows this winter has been a little more leisure time. I’m very grateful! Arriving home at 3:30pm, with plenty of daylight remaining, it completely energizes me.

So the bird feeders are soon all filled. Tiamo is going crazy inside watching the birds in the snow, simply dying for the day I will let her outside. She will be a killer hunter, and I’m not excited about it for the birds’ sake. She’s fast as lightning. It’s so pretty I even take a walk down into the woods – not done nearly so often since Schooner departed. Have I gotten lazy? Wrapped in scarf and jacket to keep the biting wind and blowing snow at bay, I am once again in awe at the pristine beauty snow brings to the landscape. Frosted pinecones on a heavily laden bough, cold crunching beneath my feet, Cardinals a red flash darting between the trees.

Back into the welcome warmth of our home, there is soon a fire crackling in the hearth, and it’s early enough that I decide the Pioneer Woman shouldn’t have all the fun.

Time to get busy in the kitchen. I’m trying really hard to develop some healthy habits, changing my diet and exercising more often. I’ve found a great recipe for mini quiches, so cook up a batch that will be healthy breakfasts for the next week. Yes, I know, diets come and go, but the present attitude is to cut out dairy and grains and processed foods. Get back to the perfect weight and work on the physical conditioning.

These quiches are so simple. Eggs and vegetables. That’s it. Add some herbs and seasoning. Take a look at these pictures – perfect for those quick breakfasts on the run.

Next, I prepare the crockpot for a chicken curry that will simmer tomorrow and produce one of my most delectable creations. Bill and I loved making curries. He may not be physically present in the kitchen any more, but he sure is in spirit. Always. We had such fun doing this together.

Then it’s a batch of blueberry muffins for Home Group tomorrow night – using almond milk instead of cow’s milk. They look pretty good!

For dinner a stir-fry fits right into the program. Chicken strips and vegetables, with a glass of Australian red. Can’t do much better than that. I think I like this healthy regime!

Now, excuse me while I settle back by the fire to do some writing. The book awaits, and Tux and Tiamo have both settled in for a long winter’s nap. Cats! They know how to do it!

When is it going to snow again?

Christmas on Amelia Island

Tiamo selects Christmas lights





It's quite amazing how time slips by. My excuses for not writing more are not even worthy of mention.

Instead, I will take this opportunity to share this Christmas before the New Year rolls in.

 



A long winter's nap

Don and Barbara invited me to spend Christmas with them on Amelia Island, Florida. Tiamo stayed at the clinic with Ann - spending her first Christmas in a cage, but it was good to know she was safe and warm. She did enjoy all the early stages of Christmas, such as putting up Christmas lights and

wrapping gifts. 



Wrapping gifts is fun

 



Tux was thrilled to have the house to himself, able to come and go at will, with no pesky little sister bothering him.



Ghost Gums on the Ridge

 I missed Tennessee's white Christmas - but we'd already enjoyed our first snow on December 14, so I was fine with a walk on a sparkling beach instead!

Amelia Island - Christmas Eve




Black Skimmers

  Christmas in Florida - invigorating walks on the beach under a cold, blue sky criss-crossed with contrails.  The beach where I always feel so close to Bill. The sea was the reward - sparkling silver in the sun. Migratory birds wheeling and soaring in the brisk wind. Black Skimmers sporting orange bands on their long beaks sharing the same spot of sand with resident flocks of gulls, brief transients on their journey southward.



St. Peter's Episcopal Church



Barb, Kendall and I attended a Candlelight Service on Christmas Eve at the beautiful little Episcopal Church (built 1881) in Fernandina Beach, enjoying the procession and ritual and singing as the clock ticked over to midnight.



Rick teaches Debi how to play the drums

 The most memorable Christmas gift was the drum set nephew Dennis gave to his brother Rick

Dennis eyes Don's helicopter

- and the remote controlled helicopters that kept the "boys" entertained for hours!

My thrill was a ride in Rick's 427 Ford Cobra, followed by a fast drag run down Rick's airplane runway in Dennis' Corvette. These guys are the experts on fast cars!


Don carves the turkey in Debi's kitchen

We had two Christmas dinners, with great company of family and friends. Don and Barb hosted the first dinner on Friday, and Rick and Debi the second one on Sunday. Linda's Bread Pudding is the recipe we all want - maybe I will have it to share next posting!



Debi and Kendall









 



  Lots of great food and wine, cozy fires, comfortable hours spent reading and   chatting. I am blessed to have family to share this time.



Christmas is best shared with family and friends























 





Lessons From a Seagull

God seems to know when we hit the wall. Stress mounting so high it feels like my head will fly off my neck, pressure mounting outside my control. Not managing it very well at all. And then God says “Let’s go,” and I fly away with him, leaving it all behind.

Amelia Island has been our getaway since Don moved to his home in a little piece of heaven. The view from my bedroom is early morning mist, dappled shadows, a faint breeze stirring palm fronds, the ocean’s deep-throated echo.

First footprints in the shallows, covered in swirling foam. If you stand in one spot in the wet sand for very long, you sink in deeper and deeper, pretty soon off balance and teetering. You have to move forward or step back, but you can’t stay in the same place. It’s a strange sensation, the sand disappearing beneath your feet, tide rushing back, leaving you stranded. Just like life.

A dog walks its owner along the beach, a broad stretch of shimmering wet sand, a mirage lapped by rippling waves, their energy almost spent. Two dogs – one the mirror image of the other, wet and glistening. Crab holes fill and gurgle as the sea washes them clean, little speedboat wakes as the water recedes. The sky is criss-crossed with contrails, dreams scattering in every direction in pursuit of adventure.

A feather floats on the tide and I reach for it. Held between my fingers, it hangs soggy and straight. I have stolen its life. Instantly regretful, I release it to float free again, and it quivers in delight, fluffing out its quills, off again.

Pedaling hard, a bare-chested cyclist rides along the beach, playing the drums on his handlebars with two drumsticks, to the accompanying symphony of the sea. A group of women walk a muscular greyhound, one sipping wine from a glass on their Sunday afternoon stroll.

The cheeky sandpiper digs for crabs, running from the rippling eddies of foam flecked water that wash in on the rhythm of the sea, a game that goes on for hours.   

A dozen seagulls face into the wind on their private stretch of shallows.

A lone gull stands apart, two broken wings hanging like heavy grey suitcases on either side of his white body. It breaks my heart. On this horizon of freedom and beauty, he is damaged and earthbound. He gazes over his beloved ocean, wanting only to feel the breeze ruffle his feathers and the salt air fill his nostrils. He nestles into a spot on the damp sand, resting, kissed by the sun and caressed by the wind. But not for long.

Another gull approaches, menacing, chases him with evil intent. My broken bird scurries on, bravely carrying his heavy burden. I remember scenes from Jonathon Livingston Seagull, the ruthlessness of the flock, unforgiving when one of their brothers falls from perfection. I wish I could give him new wings. That would show them! He’d be the bird that would suddenly appear on that distant shore, advanced lessons already learned.

*                          *                            *     

My last day at the beach. No camera, no notebook, no backpack, no people. Just me walking along the seashore. Sun on my face. Sun on my shoulders. Footprints in the sand erased by the incoming tide.

Tiamo Steals the Show

Tiamo's First Day

Last night was like one of those wonderful September nights I remember so well. Warm, but no longer the baking heat of summer that has been so oppressive. The window open and a misty rain falling, tires of a passing car squelch on the wet road. Tux and I are no longer just survivors. With the arrival two nights ago of Tiamo – our sweet little Siamese girl – we are a family again. Life has returned to our home.

Her name, Tiamo, means “I love you” in Italian. And she really is a lover.

Looking for mischief

Tux glares at the Interloper

Now I delight to sit on the sofa in the original part of our home, notebook on my lap making notes for the book, while Tiamo scampers around chasing toys, climbing the scratching post, and playing tag with the blinds cord. Tux is reluctant to admit this little interloper into his domain, but I tricked him earlier.

Tiamo was asleep on the sofa, nestled under my arm, when he suspiciously crept in, sniffing for any signs of her. Up till now, as soon as he sighted her he’d bare his sharp white teeth with a vicious hiss, and skulk out of the room, furious with me, enraged with jealousy. Then I would go and pet him, reassure him he was still my #1 boy, and he’d purr happily, all forgotten.

Tiamo has settled right in!

This time he was oblivious to her presence, and finally perched contentedly on the scratching post, watching out the window as daylight faded, convinced she must have left. What a surprise when she finally stretched and mewed! He hissed with a toothy snarl, while I snapped pictures and the flash disarmed them both. I think we’re making progress! He stayed quite a while before miaowing to be let out the front door. While young mischief pranced around the room, Tux reclined on the front porch listening to the night noises, still king of his domain.

Hard at work at the Chamber

Today Tiamo had her first day at work – accompanying me to the Chamber of Commerce, where she was cuddled and spoilt royally by Kathy.

Her life of adventure is just beginning!

Time for a catnap

The Art of Enjoyment

Funny how too much pleasure can be seen as an indulgence. We work at such a crazy pace, fill our lives with responsibilities – but slowing down to enjoy life, to savor the moments…we’ve almost forgotten how. Even my chiropractor says I need to learn how to relax. I can hardly remember the last time I sat in front of the TV for a couple of hours watching a movie. If I’m not being industrious in some way, I almost feel guilty.


But last weekend (a week ago), circumstances contrived to pack in the most fun weekend I’ve had in the longest time. I played all weekend, it’s true. And since you’re all probably so disciplined that you wouldn’t take a whole weekend off, here are some pictures to remind you that life is to be lived, and even though I don’t have my soulmate to share the moments with anymore – God fills them with the joy of His presence that draws me onwards.

The weekend begins…

EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association) Fly-In Breakfast at Gallatin airport Saturday morning. I belong to the Gallatin chapter, and it was our turn to host the fly-in, so I arrived at the airport around 7:30am to help Carolyn. She had cooked up the most incredible breakfast, that everyone declared was like a fantastic Sunday brunch! I helped collect the money, then prowled around some of the beautiful airplanes that had flown in from the surrounding region, most of them from Lebanon, TN.

1958 model Cessna 310

This immaculate Cessna 310 was a ’58 model, similar to the one Bill would have flown in his days doing the stunt flying for Sky King. It was always his favorite airplane.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the simple, basic airplanes, like this sweet little Piper Cub. Glad that all my early flying was basic stick and rudder in a glider. The pilot has promised to take me flying in this one sometime, so need to get myself back current to take full advantage of such an opportunity.

This beautiful aerobatic biplane is available for lease for anyone wanting to go through the paces of experiencing the real art of flying.

For those of us who didn’t get to fly that day, I came across this delightful video of those magnificent men enjoying a Sunday afternoon flying at Bucks County airport, Pennsylvania. Enjoy!

I was due at Gail’s place around 9:00am, where several of us saddled up the horses for a three hour ride through fields and woods adjoining her property.

The Magnificent Five

Emma & Dayle

No day’s ride is ever short of an adventure, and as we blazed a trail through thick woods and scrub up a steep slope, Julie was knocked clear off her huge Belgian horse, Caylee, by a tree limb stretched right across the rocky path. Always the brave horsewoman, she climbed right back on for the ride home. I was riding Red, an old gaited gentleman horse that used to pull a wagon for the Amish. Gail had been feeding him alfalfa, so he actually had more zip to expend than all the other horses that day, and we had a few nice gallops.

Time to go home and clean up, and then I met up with 6 friends for a Girl’s Night Out at the movies. Chef’s Market was doing a three-week menu special to coincide with the movie Eat, Pray, Love –serving Italian dishes the first week, Indian the second, and Indonesian the third.

We enjoyed some Italian specialities, then went to the movie based on the book, which is a woman’s journey to explore pleasure, spirituality and balance in Italy, India and Bali.

Sunday I explored my own spiritual growth in church, then later that afternoon took friends sailing on the Wanderin’ Star – including a really special family to whom sailing was brand new. That is always fun!

Kesia - first time sailor

It was a perfect afternoon, the wind filling our sails, water sparkling in sun-dappled irridescence. Laughter, exhilaration, and once again that incredible sense of inner peace I so often shared with Bill on our boat, when I could quite happily forget time and sail carefree and happy into the velvet softness of night.

"I fly, I sail, I throw caution to the wind"