Cactus Blossoms

 Yesterday our friends, Al and Zina, invited us to come to a Cactus Bloom party in their driveway to view her many cactuses in full blossom.  Zina is the only person I know who believes a beautiful flowering plant in full bloom is reason enough to have a party.  I think it’s a very poetic thing to do and certainly agree it is something to share and celebrate!  

It was going on dusk when we arrived a little after 7.  There were three pizzas on the table and cut up watermelon. Soon her neighbors all began to drop by.  But the star of the evening was Echinopsis pachanoi or San Pedro Cactus, a native of South American Andes. Zina told us it grew 10 feet the first year she had it.  Now it’s not a lot taller but has many columns reaching up to the sky, each one covered in many blossoms.  While the flowers show up by day, it is at night they fully open.  And they only last a day or two  We could watch them opening in very slow motion.   Al would look up occasionally and say, “See, the flowers are more open than they were.”  Zina told us they have a very sweet scent, but the smell comes from around the sepals, not inside the flower.  As the light faded, the flowers released more and more fragrance until the still air was heavy with the smell.  Too bad that the bats that pollinate these cacti in South America don’t make it up here, so bees do the harvesting of the nectar by day.  It was as Erik said, “a sensory extravaganza!”

When all the guests but us had left, we helped carry the leftovers inside.  Badger, their very friendly dog, escorted us into the living room, no doubt hoping for bits of leftover food.  We all had tea and caught up with one another’s activities.  Zina was especially happy, we all thought, but who wouldn’t be with so many beautiful cactus flowers in their front yard.

Her flower party inspired a poem:   To the San Pedro Cactus:    

Verdant queen of the night, in silence you fill the air with sweetness.                                                             Your extravagant blossoms hide nothing, trumpet a visual call come and  partake.                                 Though your beauty is ephemeral and your vigor only temporary, you hold nothing back.                                                 Life is here, love is here, you are here and the world is a beautiful place.        

                                                                                        

                                                             

                                                                                         

                                                     

Bob’s Birthday

 Erik came all the way from Takoma Park for Bob’s birthday.  Bob said what he wanted was a simple party with all the family there.  Paul did his best, calling Bob from Wales where he is for a Ceramics Festival.  Arne, Karna and Liam came in the late afternoon for dinner.  It was a quiet low key mellow day where I’d say everything went right, especially for Bob.  At breakfast, he had his favorite sunny-side up eggs with hot sauce.  For lunch, he and Erik enjoyed pickled herring and beer.  Erik with Bob[s guidance washed the dirty roof something Bob had wanted to do for a long time.  ,,And for dinner, we had barbecued chicken shish-kebabs masterfully barbecued by Arne.   Karna and Arne brought the cakes- a fabulous carrot cake for the family and a Princess cake for Karna.  Karna brought a star shaped sparkle for the top of Bob’s cake and lit it for the modest fireworks.  Erik gave Bob the most unusual birthday gift I’ve ever seen: a ceramic insulator from a power pole for Bob’s creative efforts.  Bob already has a plan for it.  He’s going to cut off the top and make it into a candle holder.  It was a lovely day spent with those he loves most.  And now he’s 85!!  How good is that?

                                          

                                                                                    

                                                                                        

No Kings March in Oakland

 Bob and I agreed we wanted to go to the Oakland No Kings March today.  It felt good to decide to do something with our extreme unhappiness, frustration and fear at the current political situation in our country.  I made a sign with Bob’s help in providing the red paint and the thick black marker pen.  As I thought more about going, fear crept into my mind and heart.  What if MAGA counter protesters come and stoke violence, picking fights with the marchers?  What if things get out of control?  I even imagined a sniper shooting at me. One thing I wasn’t afraid of was Trump’s recriminations.  Swallowing my fear, we picked up Bob’s friend Claude at 11:30 and made our way to the N. Berkeley BART station.  There were clusters of protesters with signs waiting outside the station but it wasn’t crowded getting through the gates. As we waited for Claude, I watched a group of mom’s circle their young children each holding a sign for a photo. Downstairs on the train platform, the crowd thickened.  When it pulled up, we all pushed our way on, I mean pushed.  I saw a seat by the door and sat down.  Bob stood in front of me.  There wasn’t room for a single person more.  After a while, the train operator began to sing in the loudspeaker “The more we get together, together, the more we get together, the happier we’ll be…..”. I thought maybe he’d lost his mind, but I think it was a strange kind of crowd control.  I heard people saying in some of the train cars, people began singing along.  When we got to the Lake Merritt stop, everyone poured out of all the train cars and then we saw the huge size of the crowd on the platform.  The lines were prodigious going up the stalled escalator and then waiting to get out the gates.  Finally a BART person just opened the doors and we all poured out on to the street without paying.  The march hadn't yet started and somehow we found Claude again who managed to get on our train but was in a different car.  We walked along the edge of the crowd to the very front.  There were people of all ages and races: young children in strollers, folks in motorized wheelchairs, lots of folks walking with their dogs, young people wrapped in flags and women blowing bubbles.  The mood seemed almost jubilant, but I know there was deep anger just under the surface from the messages on all the signs.  A white pickup truck with three people sitting on it moved out in front to begin the march as they sang and called out loudly amplified chants for us to follow.  We were right at the front to start but fell back as we marched slowly along.  The SF Chronicle reported: “In Oakland, the protesters marched shoulder to shoulder down 8th Street, the column was 6 blocks long completely stopping traffic as it went….”  It was totally peaceful.  I never saw any police along the way.  The march turned up Broadway to Frank Ozawa Plaza where it ended.  We didn’t see or hear any speeches there.  I picked up a hand wrapped bouquet of fresh rosemary and sage from the ground, probably brought along for peace and cleaning out of bad vibes.  Folks just milled around and after briefly resting on a bench, we headed for the nearby 12th St. BART station and made our way home.  We saw neighbors, friends, colleagues, church friends from beginning to end.  It felt good to do something and know we’re not alone!!!! I am happy to be in solidarity with people protesting all over America and around the world.  We made a stand.  Now I just hope that more and more people will vote.  I hope the legislators will notice!  I hope the momentum of resistance continues!!!!

                                                                        

                                                                                      

                                                                                         

La Boheme

 We went to the opera last night.  Arne and Karna went on Saturday night to hear La Boheme at the S.F. Opera.  They enjoyed it so much that the next day Arne called and invited us to see it with him on Tuesday.  His generosity in sharing with us something he loved touches my heart.  Yesterday he  came and picked us up and drove us into San Francisco.  We didn’t even have to take BART.  We got there in time for the pre-opera talk which was excellent and prepared us well with interesting and amusing factoids to enjoy the opera even more.  That and the Super-titles that gave us a simultaneous translation of what was being sung helped us to more fully experience the richness of Puccini’s most beloved opera.  The audience laughed and chuckled at the jokes in the first Act made clear by the supertitles.  The singing was spectacular and soared in Puccini’s lyrical romantic music.  The sets were arty and creative and a delight for the eye.  The street scene from the second Act had the full opera chorus, the S.F. Boys chorus and even a marching band was grand and exciting.  The last Act was so sad.  Arne said he heard it took Karen Chia-Ling Ho more than a week of rehearsals not to cry in her death scene.  She sang with such strong emotion throughout the opera.  

I noticed a couple of new things that give me hope for the future of opera here.  First, the audience was decidedly younger.  There were very few gray heads.  And people dressed up to come out.  I saw lots of sparkley dresses and sparely shoes and handbags.  Arriving into the lobby, there were circus performers, a couple of acrobats doing their thing and a really cute clown riding a unicycle that told us it was going to be a fun evening.  Then, as we walked the halls, there were decorations-little tableaus of art supplies, or old books and writings or even a white reclining couch like where Mimi died - where folks could sit (or recline) and have their photo taken.  

Arne loves the opera as I do.  I love the music, singing and live orchestra and the over the top drama.  I remember my first ever opera was Aida at the open-air baths of Caracalla in Rome in 1959.  I remember there was an elephant on stage in a dramatic scene.   When we lived in New Haven, I used to listen to opera live from the Met with Milton Cross on the radio every Saturday.  I recall one special recital in Woolsey Hall at Yale with Carlo Bergonzi and Renata Tibaldi.  The audience was filled with adoring Italians (New Haven was filled with Italians then).  At the end I remember a long line of young girls with flowers going up to give the artists flowers as everybody clapped and cheered.  While we were in Oak Ridge, Bob and I went to Atlanta to hear the Met on tour doing “La Forza del Destino.”  We were wowed.  When we moved to Berkeley, one thing I did was get season tickets to hear the S.F. Opera Company.  Over the years, we worked our way up to some front row Dress Circle seats.  I was thrilled to hear 6 operas a season. Sadly we let the subscription go, when we had all the boys in private schools and save money to college tuitions.  I’ve enjoyed going to the opera whenever I could since then.  Arne has been a dear to make sure we still get to go and enjoy one of of the fine pleasures of life ever since.  

                                                                                          

                                                                        

                                                                                

                                                                    

Liam

 Liam came over this afternoon.  He’s going to stay here with us while his parents go to the Opera in San Francisco this evening.  At 12 1/2 years old, he just finished 6th Grade.  His father, Arne, brings him up here often on the weekends because Liam, the apple of his Grandpa’s eye, loves the shop.  He loves the tools, the noise, the smell, making things and he loves his Grandpa.  He has become quite an experienced woodworker, turning wood on a lathe to make pens, bowls, pepper shakers and anything he can.  He’s gotten quite adept at this and is even teaching his father how to do it.  But that’s not all.  He fixes things.  Just now, as I am sitting in the patio, Liam went out the top gate by the street to get something from their car.  I told him the gate latch was broken so he had to unlock it by the wooden cross piece up top.  He did that and then he came back and squatted by the gate.  I wondered what he was doing.  He was assessing what was wrong with the gate.  He determined it was a loose screw on the post part of the gate latch.  He went into the garage got a screw driver and fixed the gate!  And he even put the screw driver back where he got it.  What a guy!  

Good Friends

 Good friends are balm to the soul, bringing special light and love to us.  A good long-time friend I met in Oak Ridge nearly 50 years ago came to visit us this week.  We picked Doris up at the Oakland Airport on Monday afternoon.  Back at home, after she deposited her suitcase and had a bite to eat, we headed off to the Botanical Garden.  Doris said she wanted to see the Garden where I spend so much time.  Our visit was a magical adventure.  We discovered bright yellow Leucodendrons with salmon pink Watsonias nearby in the African section.  We sat on a hidden bench and just soaked up the peace and beauty of the garden.  We strolled through the Asia section, stopping to admire the beauty we saw all around us.  Back home, we enjoyed meals easily prepared together and the great conversation that comes with ease of being together once again.  Each day we had an adventure, going to some of my favorite places.  A highlight for Doris was going to Angel Island on the ferry from San Francisco.  Food never tasted so good as in the open air of a picnic.  Angel Island is big and seemed deserted so we felt like we had it to ourselves.  Along the walk, there were amazing views that came along looking out across the turquoise water to Tiburon. Back in S.F., we were all impressed by a huge statue of a female figure in the plaza in front of the Ferry Building.  I know it was impactful because I keep thinking about the statue which the sign said represents hope and strength.  Thursday we went into San Francisco again this time to visit SFMOMA.  There was a Retrospective of the art of Ruth Asawa.  There were twelve galleries of hanging knotted wire creations that began to look the same after a while.  One day Arne met us for lunch, coming up from Palo Alto just to see Doris whom he has known his whole life.  Erik called too and had a nice long chat.  When we dropped her at the Airport on Friday, I was so very sad.  Her visit had gone by so quickly.  The house seems empty and I miss her presence very much.  Both Bob and I loved having her here and I think how very special it is to share in person experiences with long time friends building new memories.  Bob has a little plaque in his shop that reads, “ Make new friends, but keep the old.  The new are silver, but the old are gold.”  True, true!