Waiting for the Dive

It feels like we are standing beside a large pool, waiting to dive in. We've been in California since January 13, and every day almost has been in the 60s or 70s with blue skies. In a few days we will return to our home in Guilford. We just have to be brave enough to dive into the pool...of cold weather, that is! We think the worst is over. We didn't really expect there would be single digit temps this month while we were gone. Doesn't seem fair to our new friends to even mention where we've been this month. We'll just have to slip into the cold water and start paddling along with the flow.


Our friend Margaret got us situated in her apartment on Nob Hill for the first week. We got bus passes and jumped on buses and cable cars like we were residents, but at all times of day like we were visitors. I won't say tourists. We got library cards, went to Sausalito by ferry, roamed around Russian Hill and North Beach. Ate well (we especially recommend Boulange de Polk and Boulange de Hayes--twins). Then we skipped down to Palo Alto in our rental car (after making sure Obama got sworn in). The poetry group welcomed me back like a prodigal daughter. Technical Services has two new catalogers--yay! I used Bistro Maxine for my power lunching/business meetings. We met Riley over at the Stanford Museum. He had to choose 10 items in the Stanford Family room and write about them. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and let him do his notes (I love those kinds of assignments!).

Flying south made my incipient cold worse, but we were picked up by my sister, her husband, and Vanilla, their special dog. On to Emerald Bay! More insults to our eastern friends. Brilliant skies, walks on the beach. Erika and Grace came to stay the night--we had pizza and apfelskivvers and played Monopoly. Then we drove up to San Marino Sunday night. Back to the stomping grounds of my childhood. Went to the LA County Art Museum (exhibit about the Two Germanys after WWWII) entirely by public transportation! Today we're planning to go to the Huntington Library, I want to see an exhibit on the history of science.

Home soon. Snow and ice. And the comforts of home. Should be great!!

Beginnings

New presences. Smoky the cat plunging through the snow on his daily route, leaving his deep prints. White-throated sparrow's unique song: Old Sam Peabody, Peabody, which I found at random by punching in numbers in the Audubon book/audio-player. Five clicks and I got the one I had heard on the way home from the mailboxes. It's a mournful tune which starts high, then drops, then follows with some short, bursts.

At the end of 2008 we spent two nights in NY, saw an embroidery exhibit at Bard College, heard a lovely Early Music concert at St. Bartholomew's. Then we continued by train to DC to check in with Karen, Fede, Elena and Marina, a lively crew. Marina is a princess, as she insists by donning various regal outfits. She is only two but most of the time knows what she wants. Elena just turned five, but she shows much wisdom beyond her years.

At the end of 2007 I was inputting all the books I own into librarything.com. 942 books. A sort of obsessive-compulsive thing. Then somebody told me about goodreads.com. On this one you put in all the books you've READ (get it? not the same group...!). That was two days ago, I think. 816 books. More obsession! More fun!

Shortly before the end of 2008 I heard the peabody, I mean the white-throated sparrow. And wrote a poem about him/her. Seems a good way to start the year. With a poem.

Thoughts of the White-Throated Sparrow

Our song is Poor Sam Peabody Peabody in the US but Oh Sweet Canada, Canada across the border. I know it sounds like we are thinking too hard,starting out with a moody rumination, then switching downward in pitch,as if one idea led to another, ohhh no, what was I thinking of? They say we are abundant but declining over much of the breeding range. Must be the fault of those juncos, Mr. Dark Eyes. Spend a little time with one of them and your children will be hybrids, grayish, dully-marked, no yellow lores, those splashes of face paint below the eyes, no white throat either, and how would we look for them in the dark? Best stick with our kind, tan stripes are our thing, easy to spot in the hedgerows. Ohhh, where did I leave my shopping list? Ohhh sweetgum-amaranth-chickweed. Ohhh you with the bike-helmeted head. Ohhh who is this Sam Peabody, Peabody?