July 2nd - a book of great beauty.

Just finished listening to and reading Foster by Claire Keegan. (yes, I did both; it's that kind of a story). It is as beautiful a book as you'll ever find. The language, the story, the people; I know them so well, they are not characters to me. This is a novella just published as a stand-alone book. I was handed it by Michael of Books & Letters in Guerneville ( more about that bookstore in another post), who I think is one of the best book-sellers I've met, in terms of his ability to suss out what might interest a reader (that is, me - or you or whoever drops by) and hand them something they might love. I had mentioned I was enthralled with This Is Happiness by Niall Williams; then he moseyed over to a shelf and handed me Foster and I knew it was mine. And yes, it was the perfect book. I am not going to offer spoilers, just an encouragement to check it out. Especially at your local indy bookstore.

Putting yourself in the way of beauty

 Lately I've been finding myself in need of putting myself in the way of beauty, per the advice Cheryl  Strayed's mom gave her. And so here it is for today.

Article in Press Democrat -- and an introduction to Adlai the Stevenson Owl.....

 Super nice article by Meg McConahey in the Press Democrat today  about Home Turf! She really captured the feel of the book and its context with the campus.

 

https://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/lifestyle/more-than-meets-the-eye/

 

February, when we welcomed the rain.

Feb 4 2023

 We take the opportunity before too much more rain develops to fit in a quick walk out at China Camp – it is, after all, practically in our back yard.  With enough rain gear, it’s not a bad walk under trees and along streams. It’s not pouring rain, just a pretty steady drizzle – I mean, in Portland, it wouldn’t even rate a mention. We’re the only car in this particular lot – most folks park out on North San Pedro Road. But we’re not confident about the weather and want to have a quick  getaway if we get drenched.

 

A quick flutter off to the right , a piercing whistled cry,  white rump just above the tail – a northern flicker greets us as we tackle the three switchbacks that get us up the low hill, tree boles swathed in brilliant green mosses – we are moving through a green universe, dotted with mushrooms, and the tiny white bells of manzanitas and wildflowers, the magenta red of Indian warrior plants, that as far as I can recall are dormant all summer, springing forth now with the rains, defiant and beautiful. There's a tinkling soothing sound of rock-bedded little water falls, little creeks running out to San Pablo Bay.

It is an astonishment of greenness, of moist air. Our lungs gobble it up and we march forward with no purpose but to be walking. A few joggers and several squads of mountain bikes pass us, everyone moving faster than us, hoping to avoid the bigger rain drops. The backs of all the bikers are festooned with strip of mud straight up their back side, from saddle-seat to mid-back.  We relish this rebound of green and mud after the months and years of drought and dust. Bring it on, we think!

 This was in February. March soon became another matter.