Returning home

On Saturday morning, Bill and I packed up and reluctantly left the cabin behind.  It was a wonderfuly week of relaxation.  I did my yoga every morning to ambient music, took walks and worked on my photo project.  Bill worked on the rain gutters.  We met Bill's cousins at the Villa Dora for elegant dining on the patio.  We also drove to the high country in search of the "Gargoyles", which we eventually found at 5:00 p.m.

The drive home was leisurely until we came to the toll plaza, where the traffic came to an abrupt halt.  Lots of people were driving into the city.  I noticed right away that the pace was picking up.  As we drove onto Fell Street, the cars were vying for optimum position to navigate the streets without having to stop for the lights.  Other people were stopping in front of apartments and turning onto side streets, which caused cars to slow down and change lanes.  It was frustrating, but we got to Golden Gate Park forgetting that the Park was partially closed on Saturday.  Lots of people were out riding bikes, walking to the museums, pushing baby strollers--it looked like a busy day in the park.  Then we had to turn off the main drive in front of the museum in  order to get to our neighborhood.  I vowed I would try to find an alternate route home the next time we come home from the cabin.

Despite the drippy fog, I was glad to be home--I actually have more energy here.  I am also looking forward to getting involved with all my interests and projects.

On Sunday morning, I read an article in the Chronicle by Carl Nolte which resonated with me.  It was entitled "Not so many of us natives left here in adventure land."  I also have had the experience of talking to old friends who moved out of the city because of the fog, or because the neighborhood changed, or because they needed more space, but I, for one, want to stay.  I feel very alive living near the ocean beach, interacting with so many different people, and being able to participate in the many activities this city offers.  I love my cabin but I would certainly miss the city if I had to move away.  Someone told me that I "have the best of two worlds."  

My Retreat Cabin

Yesterday morning, Bill and I made our escape from the city, leaving behind the Outside Lands Music Festival which was being set up in the park, Sunday Streets in the Tenderloin, wet, drippy fog, and lots of slow traffic. San Francisco is a wonderful, beautiful city filled with exciting things to do, but at this moment I really need the peace and tranquility of the mountains.  We arrived a little after noontime, and met my son, Kevin and friend, at the cabin.  We all had lunch in Twain Harte at the Mexican Restaurant out on the porch, and then Bill and I said our goodbyes to Kevin and we went back to our cabin.  Kevin headed for the city where he will participate in the bike valet service that the Bicycle Coalition provides at the Outside Lands Event.

 

I am feeling very relaxed, listening to quiet music.  The sun is shining, but it's not too hot--a perfect temperature.  This morning I did my yoga, and I plan to do my yoga each morning, meditate, play my Indian flute and my piano, and work on some projects.  I also hope to go on a little hike somewhere.  Bill is fixing the rain  gutter, and plans to do some other work if he survives fixing the gutter.  It is so restful up here--just what my spirit needs. 

Summer fog

Climate--from "Encyclopedia Britannica"

Winter in San Francisco is rainy and mild, spring sunny and temperate, summer foggy and cool, and autumn sunny and warm. The average minimum temperature is 51 °F (11 °C), and the average maximum is 63 °F (17 °C). The mean rainfall, almost all of which occurs between November and April, is about 21 inches (533 mm). There is sunshine during two-thirds of the possible daylight hours. The most characteristic feature of the weather, however, is the summer fog, which lies low over the city until midday, creating consternation among shivering tourists. This fog is a phenomenon of temperature contrasts, created when warm, moist ocean air comes in contact with cold water welling up from the ocean bottom along the coast.

Summer Fog

This morning I awoke with a promise of a little sunshine.  It has been so foggy here for days, maybe weeks.  It has been wet, damp, drizzly and very depressing.  Since my mother passed away on May 4, 2011, I have been feeling very tired and without any motivation to work on all my projects.  I've gone for walks in the evening, but I had to wear a warm coat and scarf,  There were people out at 7:00 p.m. riding their bicycles, walking dogs and some even said hello, but it's not the same as a walk on the beach promenade as the sun is setting. 
 
Yesterday, I did get out of my neighborhood to have lunch at a Balinese Restaurant with a friend and then we went to her house on the opposite side of the city.  Her house is over a mountain and in a valley and it was very beautiful there.  She has a lovely garden and vegetable patch.  In my yard, it's neat, but I have spaces waiting to be planted, but it's too cold for me to stay out there for long.  I know it's like this in the summer--it's our summer fog, but each year I long for the sun.  Tomorrow Bill and I are going to our cabin in the Sierras where I hope to sit in the sun on my porch and read a book and also work on my photo album project.  Hopefully by the time I get back, the fog will have dissipated and the sun will shine again. 

My Neighborhood

I have lived in my district all my life in various locations.  Before I was born, at the beginning of WWII, my parents bought a brand new house in the new "Parkside" area.  My mother used to tell me that west of our house was all sanddunes.  Soon after the war was over, the district began filling in with homes "for the newly returning people in the armed forces" who purchased them with money from the G.I. bill.  Now I live a little closer to the ocean between two parks and on the sanddunes, but there is a lot of concrete and asphalt between the sand and us.  However, the sand dunes definitely prevail--I see evidence of them in the unkempt gardens as I wander through the neighborhood on my walks.  In front of people's houses, there is lots of sand with foxtails poking out along with brownish grasses and other weeds.  When I sweep my basement and the patio, there is always sand, and my cat brings home lots of fleas.  The gophers also make lots of tunnels and leave little mountains of sand all over any open grassy areas.  At the beach is the last remnants of the dunes--they are now planted with more indigenous plants, but the dunes are always changing shape and moving.  As the sand piles up, the highway has to be closed and machinery brought in to haul the sand away.  Sometimes I think it would have been better to have left this area to it's natural state, but it's too late--I live here along with lots of other people.

I have been trying to think about what this blog will be about--I have decided it will be about me mostly and what I do, my memories and my observations of the neighborhood, and anything else that pops into my head.  It's nothing scientific or cultural or arsty or even specific--just about how I relate to everything around me--including my family who are welcome to write something also.

Description

I wanted to include a definition of "dunes" so I found one at this site: 

 

http://geomaps.wr.usgs.gov/parks/coast/dunes/index.html

 

Sand Dunes - Coastal

Sand dunes form wherever environmental conditions provide sand, steady wind and a location for the sand to collect. This may occur in both coastal and terrestrial settings.

Coastal Dunes

Sand starts as bedrock, which is broken down into blocks, a size at which water is able to transport them downstream. Eventually these large blocks may be jostled around enough to be broken into sand-sized grains. Sand and other sediment usually ends up deposited along the sides of streams, in lakes, or in the ocean.