Marconi Jubilate April 21, 2013

One hundred years ago, Guglielmo Marconi brought his wireless to the West Coast of the United States.  On horseback, he and his crew scoured the environs in search of Tomales Bay’s highest signal-to-noise ratio for the transmission and reception of radio signals.  Bolinas was chosen as the site for transmission and the hillside above Marshall as the place for reception; the two were linked by a traditional telegraph line.  Antennae were erected, as were an engineer’s house and even a hotel on the Marshall campus.   All of this to keep an ear on the Pacific Ocean for alarms of ships in distress or news from Hawaii or Asia.

Though a new reception station was built in Point Reyes National Seashore in the 1930s, the original Marconi complex lives on, rescued by funds from the Buck Trust and the San Francisco Foundation and now maintained by the California State Parks in conjunction with the Marconi Conference Center and the “true believers” of the Maritime Radio Historical Society.   In fact, the Marconi complex is the only remaining North American Marconi-era station on the Pacific Ocean, and kudos to those who are committed to preserving it.

Today was International Marconi Day, an annual event chosen as the Saturday nearest the great Bolognese inventor’s birth.  Wireless buffs from all over the world set up shop and communicate with each other by Morse code on this annual event.  Prompted by an email “heads-up” from KWMR, our outstanding West Marin community radio station, I was compelled to check it out.  One large room in the original engineer’s house was overtaken by two also large retired gentlemen, one manning the “commercial” radio and the other the “amateur”, both pumping out code and deciphering it.   All manner of receivers and transmitters were not just on display, but some in actual use, including a model from WWII and something with Marconi actually stamped on it, a Zenith receiver, and a ticker-tape type machine, to name just a few.  One volunteer gave me a quick introduction to a special clock perimetered with 4-minute arcs of red to facilitate “auto-alarm” signals and pied with three-minute “time-outs” at the quarter-of and quarter-after to allow periods of silence for better distress listening.  What a delight to witness these early forerunners of texts and tweets in action.

With a small donation, I left with a “True Believer” mug and hiked around the fragrant grounds of this historic site.  West Marin never ceases to amaze me.

The Curtain April 14, 2013

I draw my bedroom’s white curtain open before I go to sleep.  The moon is new, just an eyelash of white in a clear night sky.  The constellations sere the black and patiently wait for me to name them.

In the morning I awake.  My eyes open to a quiet landscape, a wash of grey that quickly gives way to grass green and sky blue.

It will be windy later, but for now, I relish the stillness.

The Wind April 13, 2013

April at Point Reyes means wind.  I don’t like wind.  It makes me feel vulnerable, the high-pitched whipping, the rattling of the kitchen vent, the creaking of the walls or roof.  I worry that trees across the road will uproot and collapse onto me, pulling the electrical cables down with them.  Despite the mesmerizing beauty of grasses in motion and my fascination with wind’s origins and energetic potential, I wither in the face of its raw ferocity and try to escape from it.  Pogo, the cat, does too.

Today was so windy that I ditched my plan to plant tomato seedlings and instead headed out to Bear Valley to take a sheltered walk.  I enjoy this even path and the company of others, from little ones carried in back packs to old folks bent over but still moving; we are all here to take in this simple wonder of spring along the creek side.  The wildflowers are beginning to erupt in earnest now following a few wet weeks and the creek is full and rushing.  The path is lined with tiny blue forget-me-nots, waxy yellow buttercups, delicate pink bleeding hearts, brilliant orange poppies, sunny white daisies, edible miner’s lettuce, and a few other charmers I cannot identify.  The cow parsnip and foxglove are preparing to pop, and several kinds of fern with unfolding fronds crowd among the shrubs at the creek’s bank.  I pause several times on the quartered-out logs that serve as benches to listen and witness.  

Misha April 13, 2013

This morning on my drive to Pi, I received a text that a new human being entered the world.  His name is Misha and he is my niece’s baby, 6 pounds 10 ounces and doing fine.  He replenishes our small family, which has dwindled due to death of a spouse, siblings and parents.  Misha’s parents had spent their honeymoon at Pi, and I hope one day he too will enjoy a visit here.  Perhaps love of place is inherited.