Tomatoes, better late than never July 11, 2017

By now I should have planted tomatoes, but a long trip in June got in the way.  I don’t like to get them in too early, because the spring winds out here can be rough for the little guys, or so I anthropomorphize.

So here I am thinking about how I’ve got to get some planted so that I can enjoy them in August and the early fall.  I poke around Point Reyes and discover “Mostly Native Plants”, a new nursery on B Street, how exciting!  Weaving through the native selections, I enquire tentatively about the possibility of tomatoes.  Turns out that the young owner is giving away all his tomato plants as they are nearing the end of their life and utility.  He gathers up into a flat one of each variety, with mouth-watering and colorful names of Striped German, Stupice, Green Zebra, Cherokee Purple, Principe Borghese, San Marzano, and Brandywine, and I'm off.  I plopped them into the tomato trough this morning, and we’ll see what pops up six weeks from now!

Iddly went broody July 10, 2017

Today I took a walk with my friend Kathy along the Marin Cross Trail.  It links the Platform Bridge Road with Samuel P. Taylor State Park. It’s flat, shady, and wide enough for two friends to have a conversation.  We caught up on my trip to Rome and what is happening in Point Reyes Station.  Then I asked Kathy about her chicken who had been ill.  She died on July 5^th, Kathy said.

The chicken’s name was Iddly, and Kathy proceeded to tell me all about chicken husbandry, how unfertilized chickens never-the-less lay eggs every day, and how sometimes chickens think they’ve laid a fertilized egg and start brooding, a 21-day sitting-on-their-egg process that assumes the eggs will hatch. 

Iddly was a chicken who often went “broody”, and Kathy and her husband took advantage of that trait to introduce three chicks into the clutch in their yard.  They carefully placed the babies under Iddly, and she was excited to see her presumptive offspring, caring for them and keeping them warm.  All three made it to adulthood.

But at age four and a half, Iddly got sick, and last week she died in Kathy’s arms. 

Marty and I take the plunge July 8, 2017

My friend Marty is my age.  She retired from her career as a pathologist at age 61 and moved with her husband to San Diego so that he could take a new job.  But she has a home on the Russian River, an hour north of Point Reyes, and we try to get together when she is there. 

On Friday, Marty drove down here and we decided to do some hiking in Tomales Bay State Park and dip into the Bay.  Marty is an avid open water swimmer, and she came equipped with a warm swim top and an incredibly cute pink cap, made of wetsuit material, to keep her warm.  I, of course, had none of this. 

We bought some good sandwiches at Perry’s Market (now called IP) in Inverness Park and headed for our first stop, Shell Beach.  We set out our towels and ate our sandwiches with the wind and sand whipping into our faces.  Kids playing tag all around us kicked up more sand and we just had to laugh.  Eventually, we made it into the cool water and swam around for a while, feeling like kids again.

We repositioned our car, hiked down the Jepsom Trail to Heart’s Desire Beach, and did the whole thing all over again, minus the sandwiches.  Inching our way into the water, swimming to the floating deck and along the buoys, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

It was an afternoon of pure joy, two getting-up-there-in-age retired ladies having a blast on a weekday in the summer.  We are ready to do this again!

Raccoons and the hammock July 9, 2017

I was abroad for a few weeks in June and one of my Yoga Toes instructors came to housesit in the guest cottage.  One day I opened my email to find a message from her with the subject line “raccoons love hammocks!”.  She related that she had been awakened in the middle of the night to discover three juvenile raccoons playing on the hammock outside her door as they competed with each other to stay on top.  How adorable. How I wish I could have been home to see it!

Puzzles at Pi May 29, 2017

Pi is a quieting-down place, where sky and hours expand and linger.  And here is where my puzzle mania is allowed to unfold. 

In San Francisco, I am wedded to the daily New York Times puzzle, as the paper arrives on my doorstep, and, after all, what’s a girl to do while the coffee is perking at 6 a.m.?  But here at Pi, I dig into an assortment of downloaded PDF puzzles. 

Of course, there is the Sunday NY Times crossword, but far more fun are the Saturday Variety Puzzles from the Wall Street Journal.  Patrick Berry and Mike Shenk delight me with their elaborate word weavings, with titles like “Trail Mix”, “Correspondence”, and “Labyrinth”.  I’m particularly keen on Berry’s occasional “Rows Garden” because I have to think in only 6-letter increments. 

Then there is a step-up in difficulty with all kinds of cryptic puzzles by Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon – oy! – these can be very hard to complete!  Another set of cryptic puzzles comes from The Nation by Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto.  These don’t have the added craziness of not knowing where to put the answer (ala Cox and Rathvon), but the deciphering itself can be trickier.  Any of these cryptics can take me hours, if not days, to finish, and in truth, an answer or two almost always eludes me.  One of the things I love about the cryptics is the sensation of getting inside the head of the composer, a sort of time-delayed telepathy. 

My home here is littered with puzzles – clean from the printer, half-finished and awaiting inspiration, or completed but so messy as to be almost unreadable.  As I sit out on the deck to take in the late afternoon sun or cuddle under the covers and see the stars, there is usually a puzzle and a pencil near at hand, waiting for that next quantum of insight.  They are like friends, and I am so grateful for their company.