Ever the Estate Sale

Almost every weekend here, as is appropriate in a senior community where some folks become death statistics every week, there is a well staged estate sale. I'll be toddling off to a massage or shopping, and seeing the sign, clamp on my brakes. Half the time I convince myself that I need to accelerate once again for after all, I'm trying to get rid of accumulated trivia, not gather more. But sometimes, like last week, I can't resist the impulse.... What the other shoppers don't realize, I think, is that I'm more interested in learning about the mystery of who lived in the house and their life story, than I am in purchasing their treasured possessions. Of course, there is the eerie feeling, "Someday it will be me and my treasures they are pouring over; who will buy them and what will they think of me?"
A couple of weeks ago I stopped on impulse at a sign about a mile away. It was only about half an hour after the sale opening, and I could see many shoppers exiting the front door, arms laden with treasures, their faces half masked, half smiling, clutching their special finds. It took me five minutes to latch onto a large hand blown glass bowl with exquisite colors and designs (later Catherine and Mary's Christmas gift) and two very old Chinese Foo dogs that seemed to be calling my name. Not that I couldn't easily have spent $5,000 in five minutes, such were the art objects there, many from Bali and Asia. But what I really wanted was to learn was who had lived here, and what were the stories behind their treasures?
I brought the dogs home and put them on my kitchen table. Later I learned
from friend Elaine who has travelled to China many times that the Foo dogs I bought were male; a female dog has her paw raised with the ball in her paw. Hmm. I might have been less interested had I known. Or maybe not. Anyway, I already knew that they are supposed to guard the throne. So now they sit contentedly in front of my  fireplace, assuming their new role. I feel safer already.

 What I learned subsequently from Bonnie-type sleuthing was that the former owner had been placed in a care facility and died the day after the sale, and that in an earlier life she had worked for the CIA. I hope she passed on some of her luck and intrigue to me for I could surely use some going into this new year.

Brief Break In the Rain

Between the rows in the vineyards now water is standing in pools and the grasses seem to grow overnight. The maintenance staff here had to scoop frogs from the outdoor pools which were overflowing. Everything is so clean and shiny! Drought plagued Sonoma County has currently received over 1.37% of our normal rainfall. Over 6" fell in a 12 hour period or so they claim. Fortunately my house is dry and warm though other parts of Oakmont lost power briefly. The only malfunction I've experienced is a row of tiny ants in my bathroom.
Yesterday during a brief lull friend Ann and I put on our water wings and motored to nearby Sonoma to view a spectacular photography exhibit by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration at the Cordell Bank National Marine Sanctuary. It closes at the Sonoma Valley Library Jan. 3. Well worth the trip. The photographs, mostly taken at great depths, are mounted on aluminum so they glow with color. There was one I really coveted of swarms of fish and rocks and sponges. It was just the right color to go over my fireplace! On the way home we brunched at the Creekside Cafe which was folksy and quite enchanting. I ordered a single fruit pancake. In the middle were strawberries, raspberries and bananas. I was still full at dinner time...
Today I meet with the instructor for a new class I'm setting up here in January: Ikebana. Another adventure in the unknown.

Post Storm

No sign of sunshine yet but what few flowers are left are shaking off the excess raindrops. They say (who is "they"?) Santa Rosa had over five inches of rain in one day, making up for what we have missed in the last two years, and exceeding the bay area, though still not ending our drought. The Russian River peaked this morning and in Marin County some shops and homeowners are navigating on air mattresses. Quite a sight.
On Oakmont Drive we never lost power, though I was expecting it. Today the sky is pale grey and looks like it has been through a wringer. No juice left! In my role as a board member of the art association here I schedule all the classes and workshops.It was a humbling experience to discover last night I had scheduled two meetings in January on the same date and time. Aaagh. My brain must be waterlogged. Heretofore, I thought I was perfect! Happy advent.

Plethora of Persimmons

Besides the palette of autumn leaves which tickles my creative juices, I love late fall for the abundance of persimmons. Last week when visiting my old digs the new owners gifted me with a large jar of frozen pulp from my very own tree. Well, its not my tree any more, having passed it on to the new admirers, but I like to think it has my initials in there somewhere. It was a gift from Lee about 15 years ago, and it thrived from the day it was planted.  I like to think it has some of her spirit in it too. I have no room in my yard here for a persimmon tree, but lots of my neighbors do, and they thrive in Santa Rosa as well. So on my counter I have at least a dozen ripening. They will provide persimmon bars all year round.
Having painted the lush

orange globes so many years I thought I'd try something new this season. I'm experimenting doing a kind of free form on hot press paper. Who would ever think the models on the left produced the blur on the right?

It was playful and unpredictable, I'm going to try lemons next from Catherine's and Mary's Santa Rosa yard.

At this time when our nation is torn apart by police killings and violence and nightly demonstrations in the streets, including Oakland, perhaps it is good to have a few minutes of
lightheartedness.

Finally...

Shimmering grey cumulus clouds changing in shape so rapidly I couldn't count,  multiplied each mile Friday as weary me wended her way home from four days in the bay area. Catching up with friends and writing colleagues consumed my energies: not nearly enough time to make a big dent in my wish list of friends to see and things to do, but at least a few. The new owners of Cathy Lane invited me to see how the property looks minus the demolished green house and jewel corridor. (Great, really, just very different.) The storm held off until just a few minutes before I arrived home at Oakmont. There I found that my two Japanese maples decided on a wardrobe change while I was gone. Hundreds and hundreds of little colored petticoats covered both my front and back yard. Out my bedroom window they are over a foot deep in places. They now glisten in our much appreciated rain. The forecasters predict we will get more percip in the next seven days than we have had in a year. Triple rejoicing. 

Catherine came yesterday and took me shopping to Whole Foods and a funky little Ace hardware for an odd sized light globe. She goes to Washington DC next week to testify at the Senate Finance Comm. on Women's Health. 

My breathing is still problematical so I am on oxygen most of the time. I feel conspicuous when I go out, but few people stare, or if they do, I don't notice. On this Thanksgiving week I am most thankful for loved ones, and for the assist of portable oxygen. Now I can't wait to see what December brings. 

Meanwhile, I'm reading up a storm, as well as painting a little. Hope you are warm and toasty wherever you are. 

So Many Gratitudes

It was a bit scary yesterday as the  skilled and personable techie, Craig,  added the radioactive juice to my i.v. to see if I had any blood clots ready to pop. "You'll feel flushed and then you may get a headache" he confided, "but the whole process will only take four minutes". This was after fifteen minutes of being scanned with my arms in a swan dive position, by a big rotating camera in another room. Guess what? No blockages, no naughty gremlins ready to jump out at me. The whole process took about an hour an a half, and yes, was followed by a headache. However Craig confided, "We don't know why, but the headache is alleviated by real caffeine....would you like me to get you some from the nurse's lounge because whats in the waiting room is decaf.?"
Wow, it really worked. Later the cardiologist met me and my dear driver, Joyce, and we celebrated the good news together: no need for an angiogram and a stint.. I'm still on oxygen part of the time, and now I return to my dear pulminologist to see if we can figure out what's ailing in my lungs. But this is terrific news and my first gratitude.

My second gratitude is that we have had a little rain. Not enough, of course, but sufficient that plants once brown are starting to flirt with green. The photograph on the left is of Hood Mountain taking on its winter color. I can see the mountain from my back deck, but not this much of it until neighbors trees loose their leaves, a process just starting.  I took this photo standing in the middle of Oakmont Drive about three blocks away. When my hiking friend Jamie from Colorado came out to nurse me after my broken hip she climbed this landmark, imagine.

My third gratitude is for all the friends who have helped me make this transition to Santa Rosa in the last two years. Friends, both new and old, are what make my world go around. I'll be spending Thanksgiving in Hayward with my dear old friends Stace and Andrea, and Jac from San Leandro (and Belgium and France) will be joining us, as well as the usual gang. For Lee and I, Thanksgiving would have been our 58th anniversary. How lucky am I!

Not that I'll ever run out of gratitudes, but a special place in my heart is reserved for my art buddies. They prod and poke and inspire me to keep painting. Right now I'm playing with abstracts. I'm pretty awful at it, but it is creative and playful, something I want more of in my life. Below are three I presented to my Oakmont Critique group last Monday. They see things in them I don't, but I'll hold off adding them to my scrap pile until the radioactivity gets out of my system.

 Maybe this is what my stomach will feel like next Thursday after the second piece of pumpkin pie. They are created by holding stretched paper over the sink and dropping watercolors on them, in a variety of patterns. Then the artist fills in the spaces to try to make a painting. I just let my imagination go. One has no choice but to be playful.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Change of Season

Its 4 pm in the afternoon and even though the wall thermometer says 70  I can't seem to get the chill off my spine. For the first time this morning, heading out to an 8:30 am Art board meeting, I donned a long sleeved tee and a light jacket. About 2 pm I rose from my comfy recliner  where I'd been reading for two hours and put on a light undershirt under the long sleeved red tee. Still chilly at 3:30 I checked the deck thermometer and it read 62. But somehow I can't get rid of the chill.  Its as if the house walls don't want to absorb the heat from the long unused furnace and are still splashing cold on me. So I made a cup of hot chocolate and put fake whipping cream on top. Maybe that will help. I know tonight I will put on my purple sweat shirt over my other layers when I go to friend Judy's for take-out Chinese.
The two large Japanese maples in my yard have been reluctant to shed their leaves; this cooler weather should shock them into action. Meanwhile, nearby friends Steve and Chuck have a persimmon tree bursting with fruit and brilliant leaves. They kindly share with me and the frozen pulp makes persimmon bars all year to the delight of my new friends. See their bounty below.

 Since I am kinda known for my persimmon paintings I think its time to get out my brushes and go to work.