Both Cruz and I savored this holy show, yet we each harbored a sadness knowing full well, that our seas are not healthy. It brought us to a conversation about our mutual experiences with faith, religious devotion, and honoring our earth.
I often discuss taking the high road in these matters. That is no easy task. A personal analogy would be my desire to hike trails that traverse hills and mountains, and then to have my knees fail me. This is so personally frustrating. It’s as though I can not reach the heights that I seek. And, yes, it makes me angry.
Six to eight-foot waves show-off the water’s relentless power. The agitation pushes foam just out of reach from my toes in the wet sand. An unexpected rogue wave is likely, so I keep my photo gear ready should I have to make a fast departure from my station.
Here, life seems abundant. But this rare forest — one of three Monterey pine forests in the world — dies a bit more with each blink of my eyes. Pines with green needles last week, are now tinged in burnt-sienna — the first sign of a tree’s fight for life.
Something has gone awry, however. It appears the massive power and wealth of these fictitious persons have leaped from the board room into the halls of our Capitol. With a corporation unable to maintain a moral compass by it very legal definition, democracy, you and I mean little.
I don’t believe in the phrase “color blindness.” To imagine my life without the colors of my friends and associates, without other venues of religious faith, without other world visions, without other cultural behaviors, would make my world so absolutely beige. I don’t like beige. It would be like eating plain mashed potatoes every night. Blech! I want yuzu sauces, curry, smoked paprika, and chili peppers with my parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
The bargain juicer literally exploded while I juiced grapes! A centrifugal juicer, the juicer’s strainer basket/shredder disk dislocated itself, blasted through the plastic top cover like a terrorist’s bomb. Then the shredder disk rocketed into the air, spun like a UFO, landing 20 feet into the living room. Grape remnants stuck to the kitchen ceiling, the dining room chandelier and cabinets—about 10-feet west—and some plastered the TV screen in a protective cabinet.
“This is like living in a third-world country with high-end tax bills!” I screamed while scrubbing the bathroom with the captured water, which was not going to leave enough water to flush the toilet later on. I took a break. When I looked at my garden, the artichoke plants drooped like my sullen mood. They needed water. Thank goodness we captured some rainwater from the roof into a 300-gallon tank that sits in the driveway. It’s the new drought fashion accessory.
This story can also be read in The Cambrian Embedded just over my right eye is a one-inch scar. I was a tad […]
I gifted myself with a semi-professional camera, with interchangeable lenses that included zoom, and wide-angle possibilities. It was time to leave my point-and-shoot digital camera behind. No longer could it capture what I see in my minds-eye when my true eye peers through a viewfinder.