In Contract

This week on Mars the Rover is finding more documented evidence that there was once water on the red planet.  As of yesterday here on the home front  I am officially in contract on the sale of Cathy Lane. I'm wondering what historic clues the various inspectors will find as they peruse the cracks and crannies, for this land was certainly once redwood forests inhabited by Ohlone Indians, I believe, as well as early Spanish settlers and loggers. The most native treasures I've found here in 51 years are some very old deer antlers however much of the land is unexplored. But its fun to spin the clock forward and imagine what will be found in another 50 years. Lee and I were always rock hounds hauling home specimens from all over the west to build rockeries and line paths and personal memory banks. The yard is full of rocks out of place, that's for sure, confusing future generations of geologists. As I look around  I contemplate which ones will be moved with me? The back of Lee's old pickup is already full of little rock treasures awaiting their new nesting places in my Sonoma County yard. Others are being perused for consideration, like the big crystal hunk we hauled from the rattlesnake infested lavender pit in Bisbee, Arizona, the geodes from Grizzly Peak in Berkeley, and the conglomerates from Dr. Jane's cabin on Mayacama Creek near Calistoga where we spent so many happy hours. Even little agates from Mexico and Alaska shine up from the gravel paths.  I hope future generations of rock hounds will find them and take the same delight as I have.

Layer Upon Layer

Soon from my living room picture window I shall watch the dusky fog creep in through the Golden Gate for the last time in fifty-one years as I make the sometimes gentle sometime jerking transition to Sonoma County.
Kodi seems to be ahead of me in the process of adaptation having already made friends with a new pack of dogs ("They just smell each other, as dogs do," Juan the new dog walker says. Wouldn't it be fascinating if people did the same, I chuckle to myself?  Kodi has already found a nice niche in his new yard, squashing a bed of white daisies so it is soft and molded to his furry 90 pound husky shape.  
I'm much slower to shape my own niche, but I am already registered to be in an art show at the community center Oct. 11 and last Saturday I engaged in one of the joys of my new community: the library. It is a large collection of books, tapes, magazines, etc. available to community members on the honor system, that is residents just take what they want, in any quantity, and return them whenever they wish: no signing out required. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all libraries could do the same?
At my new home the sky view from the great room looking east is the sunrise, as seen here.  I'm not sure it will ever match the glories of the sunsets I am used to embracing.

Each day now, even as new friends and experiences surround me, it seems I experience a new level of loneliness and loss. When a realtor in Oakland presented a client's offer to buy Cathy Lane last week she spoke of the serenity of the view with such eloquence that the tears welled up involuntarily deep within me.  Making such a dramatic change is a big deal for this old dame. Dear Lee, I sure miss you in this process, but I think I'm going to encompass it. Maybe with grace? Maybe not.  

Transition

Heading North this morning for another four days of camping out at my new home in Santa Rosa while the realtors down here do their stuff matching Cathy Lane with some new client who will love it as I do. The fog over the bay is just thick enough that the tops of the San Mateo hills emerge and pale pink streaks soft as satin are beginning to swipe the fog. Looking out the study window I see Kodi has just stretched from his current favorite sleeping spot on top of the red bricks in the rose garden covering the septic tank.  The best house tour on line is at Trulia.com for it contains some photos I have taken over the years of the magical sunsets here as well as the fog on Skyline.
When I say camping out it is because all I have in Santa Rosa is a blow up air mattress,
one chair, a few dishes, a dog bed and the four footer who sometimes occupies it.  Tomorrow morning at 8 he will experience his first hike with his new dog walker, Juan, and three other big dogs in Arundel State Park. I hope he passes the test of good behavior.

So far the neighbors, nursery and store owners in Santa Rosa have been patient with this Alameda County transplant to Sonoma County who knows not yet where anything is, or what she is doing, or what plants will or wont grow up there. I find the soil in my new back yard hard as a rock; amendments are in order soon.  Oh, I need to put garden pick on my list of what to pack today! The photo above is my new back deck.  Soon I hope it will be filled with Bonnie plants and trivia. Wish me happy digging.

Trying to Understand

First Lee went away, the one who always held me and gave me bites off her plate, and  called so tenderly "Where's my puppy?" and then Bill and Dean who sometimes baby sat me and were forever taking my picture disappeared, and then the tall blonde hiker they called Debbie vanished and they had a dog party called a memorial but she wasn't there, and now the one Bonnie calls Debbie #2 is saying how much she will miss me while holding back salty tears.  I just don't understand.  Have I been bad or something?

Quiet Contemplation

Here I am contemplating the unknown, grounded in my old leather teal colored San Francisco therapy office chair.  Right now it is the single piece of furniture in my new home in Santa Rosa, except for a borrowed blow up air mattress. Friend Susan Logan drove me up on Wednesday, the day I got the keys to my new address. I am still on drugs from the emergency dental extraction Tuesday and not quite with it.  The rest of my furniture is either in the storage locker or back at Cathy Lane awaiting the stager on Monday to do the final arranging to attract a new home owner whom I hope will love my old digs as much as I. None of us can know what the next day will bring, right? I hope my new life on Oakmont Drive will soon be full of the richness my new Brazilian Cherry floors reflect.

Purging

 This morning as I was purging my files in preparation for the move to Santa Rosa I came across a letter I wrote to Lee June 13, 1992, 5:15 am.  She had sold her beloved business the day before.  She was 67 and her heart and lungs so weary. Here's what I wrote:
"And so the day has come when you say good-bye to Accents and Art and hello to a life far different in scope and challenges. I'm a little scared, very sad, and very glad all at once. I remember my idol Carol Rogers saying at the beginning of our 17 day intensive how he grieved the loss of the group who had just left, at the same time feeling expectancy for the unknown connections with the group arriving. I was puzzled that he so much stressed the loss. I hope I understand better now that in order to embrace the new we must feel the loss of the old."
This is the week I signed the title papers for my new home. This old one will go on the market shortly. My body is stressed from the work of moving and my emotions are playing ping pong. So much is happening.  I hope, as my own words say over 20 years ago, I will be able to embrace the new.

I was able to photograph quickly the floor plan of the new house. Can you figure it out?
Its mostly one great room, with three small bedrooms.  Bear with me. More will be coming in the weeks ahead.

Tears and Fears

Even the littlest thing makes me tear up these days, like the Safeway clerks showing unusual kindness. I can't drive up and down Skyline Blvd. and Redwood Rd. without swallowing sobs which seem to sneak up and hit me totally unexpectedly. Saying goodbye to rituals and memories is so damn draining, huh.

Wednesday my friend Marta accompanied me to Santa Rosa to be present for the structural inspection of my new digs at 8824 Oakmont Dr. It all went pretty well. There were more than 40 pages of documents for me to sign.  I paid little attention; my mind  on where my furniture would go and what changes I would make to the garden and my disappointment that the house looked smaller than I remembered.

Yesterday as I accompanied the wonderful movers with three fourths of my furniture to the storage place. The stagers, Ike and her sister, my friend Jan,  remained here and transformed the patio.  It looks stunning, doesn't it, even though it does not say me.

I remind myself tenderly it is not supposed to say ME any more.

I was only 33 when we bought this house so now its probably Bonnie weary of my expressing myself here for 49 years.

Time to invent a new life and a new yard and a new identity. I just hope the excitement of that task replaces the empy spaces in my heart.