Flowers and friends

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

It was a busy day with friends. No painting today — lots tomorrow. Here’s what I just finished (20” x 20”). It’s hanging in the bathroom, which could be an honor, or maybe not.

Love,

k

Finally -- I'm worrying about stupid!

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

I know I'm getting better because things are starting to bug me, worry me, annoy me.

Like when someone slipped an unsigned note under my door this afternoon: “Please flatten all boxes. Thank you.” And there was a photo of the trash bin, with a box — intact, yes, mea culpa — addressed to me. Grrrrr! Didn’t they have the dignity to sign their name? Didn’t they realize the box was filled with recycling trash? 

But wait! Thankfully, I remembered how nice, yes, nice, it is not to care. To shrug and thank them (I know who it was!) for the reminder. And to go on to pay attention to what is really important.

Who needs to worry that the screws are too short in the closet door, so now it is hanging crookedly? At 3 a.m. it seemed tragic. Today I bought longer screws. 

Not long ago everything worried me — so intensely that in the end nothing really mattered. Pain obliterated details. At least now I’m worrying again. And now I know time’s too precious for that.

Love,
k

St. Helena afternoon

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

This afternoon Zing and I drove to St. Helena in Sonoma County. I want to know the land around me. 

First there’s Napa County, then Sonoma County.

The towns along the way are Napa, Yountville, St. Helena. Beyond is Calistoga. You see signs for cork companies, barrel companies, transport services. 

On the way, the hills are rounded, the dry grass is yellow, and the fields are mostly grapes. In some, farm workers in big hats seem to be picking the fruit, or tending it in some way. 

St. Helena is a busy little tourist town, full of shops and restaurants and, of course, tasting rooms. Right away I noticed that no one smiled — most people you pass on the sidewalk in Sacramento smile. It seems there is no instantly-obvious sense of community, which might be the definition of a tourist town. 

As we walked I heard a man say to a woman, “Then we’re going to go to that cuisine place, right?” He might have meant the Dean and DeLuca shop on the way out of town. On the way home I stopped there for cheese.

The high school cheer sign says, “Go Saints!” (As a Catholic, I love it. Who is the patron saint of wine?)

I didn’t immediately like the place — which means I’ve got to go back again. Maybe take the wine train!

Love,

k

We took a walk in this little park in the center of town

This charming house is for sale 

Real estate prices are high

Lost is my way to learn

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

I’m still getting lost, but by now at least I’m familiar with the names of the streets I am lost on — today I wandered between Folsom and Stockton. Lost is the way to learn the map, and I’m glad I have the time to do it. 

This afternoon Kate and I planned the next condo crawl — it’s this building’s name for a party. 

Then I painted and broiled halibut, the best west coast fish I’ve tasted yet.

I’m tired, and I think Zing is too — some city noise woke us up at 3 a.m. It sounded like the clanging refuse bins. 

Here’s what I see from where I’m sitting now.

Love, k

Watching the flowers grow

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

It was great spending time with Steph and Patrick today … brunch at The Porch, a Louisiana-inspired place with great coffee and cornbread and fried chicken. It's one of several "southern" restaurants in the Sacramento grid. (The South is another.) I enjoy being a South-snob, thanks to 10 years in Tallahassee. 

P & S  returned to the country; Zing and I returned to our balcony, where I read in the heat and he watched the flowers grow.

Love,

k

Sunflower thoughts

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

Today I cleaned the house. I never liked dusting. 

But there's something pleasantly proprietary about dusting each new corner.

I keep thinking about sunflowers.

Love,

k

Celebrating the artist in us

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

Today four artists came to my home to celebrate and encourage each other. We met at the drawing class at Crocker Museum, and after it was over we all intended to energetically make art.* We hope that meeting occasionally will keep us on track.  It was fun.
Love,
k

*My plan is to make a small piece (12" x 12") every week, each exploring a different avenue to refine my exploding interests and find a simple way forward. Another woman wants to explore kid-friendly techniques because she's a museum docent for 5-year-olds. Another has become a vegan and may use her colorful food photographs for a vegan blog. And the fourth-grade teacher plans to paint her house over the summer and learn new ways to integrate art into the curriculum.

Classical strings

Written last night:

Dear Friends,
I almost skipped chamber music at the church today — I thought it might be a weak presentation, since it's the middle of summer. 

But I did go, and when I walked in (a couple minutes late), the man on stage was holding up a stringed instrument that looked like a ukulele. It was a small guitar, and he played classical guitar that I loved. I am beginning to feel close to these instruments!

Love,

k

Across the street ... across the country

Sunday

Dear Friends,

I  am in bed. Zing is on the floor looking up at me. He’s saying, “What’s happening?" 

Our Tallahassee neighbors are visiting. They have an Airbnb, but Ana is staying the night with us — she’s in the studio-guest room, finishing up a painting before bed. 

Zing may be a little confused at the change in routine, but it’s happy confusion. 

Monday

My friends from Tallahassee are here.  I am exhausted and delighted. And lucky. Too tired to say more!

Tuesday 

Kit, Irene, Henry and Ana lived across the street from us in Tallahassee. Over 10 years we got to know each other well. This summer they are visiting friends and family all over California, and I am lucky they spent the last two days with me in Sacramento. I mean, who goes to Sacramento? My friends appreciated the place. Irene likes the way the old houses and the newer ones complement each other. And the tree-lined streets, she thought, are not only shady but welcoming. They give the place a sense of intimacy and scale. Kit, who works for the State of Florida, could feel a different political attitude in the capital  here, and he played Clark's ukulele. Ana liked my balcony. She stayed for two nights — the first person to sleep on the turquoise daybed. Last night we stood on the dark balcony and watched the colored lights and the swooping crows and the yellow bridge and Raley Field, all lit up with a baseball game. Enchanted, Ana wanted to sleep on the balcony, but I said no.

Henry, a self-aware teenager, showed me how to operate the TV remote, and he made me laugh. And Kit and Irene remember Clark well, so I may have cried a bit with them, but not much. 

Ana and I wanted to go to the California State Fair, but the others said it was too hot, They were right. Today we had lunch at a table under the trees at the Roosevelt Park farmers market, near where men were playing basketball and soccer at noon. It was cooler than yesterday, and there was a breeze. 

Seeing Sacramento with them made me feel like I belong here. And it made me realize how lucky I am to have dear friends who help me connect my past with the future.

Love, 

k

Birds on the fly

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Today was easy — I cooked all afternoon after going to the farmers market in the morning. Haven’t done that for a while. Cooked, that is. 

And on our walk I saw a bird. So I drew it. 

Love,

k

I’ve been drawing birds when I see them — on the fly — quickly, before they get away. These are from last week:

Feeling ever more like home

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

OK, I’m going to admit it: there are some times when it’s nice being alone, and this is one of them. I’m eating chocolate, drinking wine, looking at a big bouquet of sunflowers and writing to you. Zing is on a pillow at my feet. I’m expecting dear friends over the weekend, talked to at least three Sacramento friends today, exercised, cleaned the house, and just came back from the monthly art-walk evening in Davis. Also, I’m past my regular “bedtime” (10 p.m.), so I’ve gotten that “I’m wide-awake again” energy. It was a good day.

Not only that, but Randy the handyman hung two more pictures yesterday, so the place feels ever more like home.

Love

k

I love this photo taken at sunset along a road in Yolo County
It echoes the sunflowers,
although in this case it is just the sun
(Digitally-manipulated photo by Dee Conway)

Zing grants me time on my own

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Zing wants me to have a happy life — just like Clark does, I'm sure.

I mean, Zing's a dog, but he’s my dear companion now. And I’m sure Zing wants me to go out and  enjoy life, even if he hates to be left alone. So this morning I gave him the relaxing pills, put on his snug “Thundershirt,” and left him cozy on the bed while I went to an exercise class at the Senior Center (Yes! I did go there!) The class wasn’t one of those silent heavings where everyone is trying — painfully, strenuously — to outdo the next person. To my surprise, the leader told us what to do, and then everyone started talking. Also moving, lifting, stretching. As a teacher, I am fascinated: fun ruled, and the objectives were accomplished. When I got home, Zing was still on the bed and my iPad’s video told me he hadn’t barked or whimpered while I was gone. I am grateful because I like exercising in a group sometimes.

On the way home, I went to the Avid Reader bookstore, but the guy was too busy to tell me if he could order My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk, so then I went to the Ella K. McClatchey Library, but it was closed. Oh, never mind, there’s Amazon! And here's a sign on the porch of the house across the street from the library, which is in a neighborhood of some pretentious homes (some not) just east of the grid.

Love,

k

Searching for Sun -- flowers, that is

Written Monday night:

Dear Family,

Zing and I drove to the small town of Winters this afternoon, searching for sunflowers. I went there last August to meet friends (Susan! Carol!), and in my memory sunflowers lined the roads, but I think they were gone to seed. So now, a month earlier,  they’d be in their prime, right? But no sunflowers met us today. Maybe they grow and die quickly or maybe I took the wrong road. I’m still searching. 

Winters is a bright, hot little place, and I’m glad we went. 

Written Tuesday night:

Today Zing and I found our sunflowers — on a straight, empty country road in Yolo County,* near Winters, where we searched in vain yesterday. These flowers are bigger than the ones you buy in the grocery store or flower stall — each one about half the length of Zing. And, no, I didn’t take even one! But I did stop at Safeway to buy a bunch on the way home.

*I learned that Yolo County provides seeds for cultivation around the world. 

Love,

k

Winters, CA: Across the street from,City Hall

Yolo County sunflower field. I am facing west, and the flowers are turned east

Sunflower Dog

Ukulele with a pencil

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

As you know, I’ve fallen in love with ukuleles — even more than before (Clark played the uke) --  thanks to Meredith, who asked me to draw one for her. At first I was nervous because I didn’t know exactly what she had in mind, and also because I didn't even know how many strings a ukulele has (4). I spent about a week just looking at ukuleles and talking to people who play them. I made measured drawings, as if I were going to build one. Finally loosened up, I made my own ukulele song. I like what I came up with, and so does Meredith.

Love,

k

Summer slow-mo

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Today was hot. Zing and I went to the farmers market; there were fewer stalls and not as many shoppers, either. On the way home we checked out the art center at McKinley Park, but couldn’t go inside since there is a NO DOGS sign. Never mind — Zing does not care much for art. Instead, we took a pleasant walk along the shady streets, past well-kept houses. Later this afternoon I went to the garage and noticed that Rosa was one of the few cars remaining. “Everyone goes to the mountains when it’s hot,” one of my neighbors said. So it felt like I had the city to myself. 

I ate a sweet melon. 

... and the day before Yesterday:

Nothing out of the ordinary today: I did laundry, cleaned my three rooms, although I promised Clark I would not ever do that again, found a quickie car wash -- outside only, $7 cash —  did some financial understanding, considered logical possibilities with Patrice, made a pizza on a Trader Joe’s frozen crust (good!), experienced the comfort of leaning on many pillows against the wall on my turquoise daybed. Which is where I am now.

Love,
k

Breakfast balcony

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Here’s a photo of my balcony. It faces north, kind of (Sacramento street grid is not precisely N-S), and is sunny in the morning. I’ve been having breakfast out there and loving it. Zing loves lying in the sun too. I feel lucky to have the north light because it’s not shadow-y, but still plenty bright. People on the other side of the building have sunny afternoons.

Love,

k

California Capitol

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Today I went to the Capitol — Tony was watching Zing! —  to see what tours they offer, in case you want to go there when you visit (You are going to visit, right??). I could not believe the friendly, welcoming attitude. Tours are on the hour/ 45 minutes each. 

Love,

k

Here are some photos:

The grizzly bear guards the door to the governor's office

It's right inside the front door of the Capitol

An important phone call, no doubt

There's a statue of Ronald Reagan because he is the only California governor to become president

That's what the woman at the desk said

"Now, if we can get Jerry Brown to run for President, then we can have his statue here too,” she laughed

Water-smart construction facing Capitol Mall 

The Capitol building is at my back and you can see the gold bridge (over the Sacramento River)

on the far side of Capitol Mall

This is where the Thursday noon farmers market is

Free to celebrate the small things

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Nothing happened today. Our neighborhood was still. Until now, that is — it’s dark now --  fireworks time, and there are rumblings from somewhere near the bridge, where Zing and I last saw them New Year’s Eve. That’s when Zing reminded me Dogs Do Not Like Fireworks. So tonight he’s wearing his Thundershirt (a snug wrap that’s supposed to feel like a hug to take a dog’s mind off his problems).  In a minute I’m going to sneak onto the balcony to see the show. 

This afternoon, walking around Capitol Park, we said hi to a young man and his mom. When the guy bent to pat Zing I noticed he had a musical instrument in a case on his back. “Is that a ukulele?” I asked. I think I kind of pounced. “It’s part ukulele,” he said. Delighted that someone cared, he took it out of the case and showed me. It had six strings, not four. He played me a little bit, and said he’s just learning. He likes the ukulele size because he travels a lot, but he wants the six-string sound. Perfect. 

On Independence Day, don’t forget Abraham Clark, our — or your, some of you — ancestor who signed the Declaration of Independence. I took out a $2 bill and said hi to him, there on the back with the other signers. He makes this day even more special. 

Happy Fourth!

Love,

k

Woman with turquoise umbrella in the rose garden

Abraham Clark: from biographies of the signers