I had thought to see the Bay.
But from where I live it’s a winding and hilly road to the ocean, and that felt like too much driving for my broken toe. The Bay sounded good. But the Bay is flanked by roads, and you need an open parking lot to get close enough for short rather than long walking. Again, the toe.
No open lots were to be found. At least none by the water. So we improvised. Most of all I wanted something new. We take what we can get.
I had never seen this place, close to Google’s campus and a concert venue as it is, so empty.
Then we drove into downtown Mountain View.
Hopeful umbrellas. Gotta applaud the optimism.
I can’t offer vistas, nor whitecaps nor seagulls crying and wheeling overhead, but here’s a French horn in a store window,
a plaster dragon statue plus the reflection of a man carrying bags in another,
and a robot delivering food from an open sushi place. Totally taking what we can get.
Then we drove to the Stanford Shopping Center. Empty commercial alleys. The flowers were still tall,
but the maintenance workers had been furloughed.
I wore a mask, which added to my sense of dislocation. On the other hand the mask was made by a friend; that made it better.
At least I was out, and it’s all still there.
I missed you, that’s what I missed. I love the people of the world, busied with their lives. I even love being annoyed by everyone, if that makes sense.
This morning, back at home, the light was gorgeous. Dark skies, washed sun. And guess who’s shamelessly pandering to our desire for hope? Thanks sweet one.
The iris was not to be outdone. That veining.
New can be relative. I’m still restless and worried, but I feel a good enough layer of peace underneath, and what I suppose is gratitude. At least for today. Tune in tomorrow for more of life at wit’s end. Just kidding?
Hang in there. I’m thinking of you. There’s no easy escape but it seems that our capacity to pay attention can still maybe help.
32 Responses
Yes, our capacity for paying attention has never been stronger. For me, that offers both energy and comfort. I appreciate that you can “see” the small things, which get us through these big things.
(and thanks for wearing a mask).
Thank you! And you are welcome.
We have a family of woodpeckers making wee nests in our ash tree, and the first rose of the season is standing proudly among it’s nearly budding sisters just waiting to explode with the next surge in temperature. Stay healthy.
Woodpeckers! The wild world is still there.
Thank you for sharing your excursion with us. It’s amazing how important the little things are now. Stay safe!
@Jen, You are so welcome. I am working hard on finding as many little things as I can.
Much as I miss so much from Before, I do appreciate the current imperative of paying close attention to the particular. Perhaps as we observe our immediate environments more carefully, the connection we feel will be carried into our After so that we’re not so easily distracted from conserving what’s good in them. Convenience has ruled us for so long, and I guess one of my little hopes is that we might be learning, during this down time, that some of what we’d given up, replaced with devices and practices more deleterious to the planet, were not so terribly inconvenient after all. Or perhaps just that the inconvenience was balanced by the slowing down. Or something. Your rose and iris are much more eloquent in their hope. Thanks for indulging my babble, xo
@Frances, You never babble. xoxo.
It’s a huge hope, that somehow, somehow we are going to learn something and this won’t all have been suffered in vain.
Other than the magnificent flowers the whole atmosphere seems vaguely disquieting. One time in 2008 I was passing by The Galleria a large and banal shopping mall. I thought to myself wouldn’t it be wonderful to just have the whole place to myself? In 2008 that wish came true it was horrifying. Of course, we are the lucky ones. I know I dare not complain.
Luci
@luci, We can complain as long as we are kind and don’t insist on more than our fair share. And you have earned my ear, at least, all of you here have. The atmosphere was disquieting. At least the trip made me feel better to be home.
Yes, a layer of peace is what’s needed. I gain mine early in the day when, with my coffee, I sit in my car — windows open for the fresh air and the sounds of the birds, and listen to classical music on the car radio. This morning, chill as the East Coast was, I listened to an entire performance of Haydn’s St. Cecilia’s Mass. Quite calming I need a break from the mental precision of our new days, and I think others do as well.
@Nancy, Mental precision! That’s exactly it. Precision with life-altering implications. I love your music in the car strategy, what a lovely, lovely scene.
We drove to a small town near us today (population 600) and somehow ended up in the cemetery established in 1821. Quite old for Florida and clear when the yellow fever epidemics swept through. I wonder if it was somehow easier not knowing what was happening around you or more lonely? BTW, I have broken almost all my toes and they heal pretty quickly if you are kind to them. It just hurts like crazy for the first two or three days.
@Lynn, I think it’s a really good question, the impact of social media on our well-being in a time like this. And I feel like an idiot but I broke my toe on February 20th, and then didn’t acknowledge that it was broken, and have been advised by my doctor daughter than I probably rebroke it and now I am being more conscientious:(.
Hi Lisa and all,
I read your blog each week but I have commented only once that I recall. I have lived in Macas, a city of 25,000 in the Amazon area of Ecuador for almost 5 years. My son has been in the country for nearly 33 years and my daughter-in-law, just since they were married two and a half years ago. She hit the ground running because she has been fluent in Spanish since childhood. (It is a sweet romance since they reacquainted after not having any contact since they were friends in the States some 33 years before. It is the first marriage for him and he has himself a fine woman. We live in adjacent apartments.)
There are very few virus cases here because we are not on the beaten path of vacationers and people who live here don’t travel a lot. We are 7 hours from any large city. Nonetheless, we are under strict guidelines to stay home except for very necessary reasons, and we have a curfew that starts at 2:00 p.m. and goes until 5:00 a.m.
It feel so odd, even eerie, because streets in Ecuador are usually teeming with people. This particular place has the reputation of being tranquil and in fact, is safe and pretty friendly. People readily say hello in passing along the sidewalk.
When the restrictions started a month ago, I knew I had to build structure into my days or they would pile up with little memory of how I spent them. Some days it works well; other days, especially the overcast ones, I diddle and don’t get much done. I’m okay with it.
We are in for many more days of restricted movements here, so I have targeted some big projects to finish. The major cleaning and organizing faze is over. I can take my time and enjoy the process.I plan to do just that. It is a pleasure to check in with friends and find they read the messages quickly and reply. Sounds like they welcome the company.
This period will change us all. May we be prudent, be grateful for life, and somehow use the time in wise ways.
I hope your toes improves quickly. Hugs to you and all.
@Elaine Ness, It’s very nice to hear from you. What a fascinating life you must lead, you and your son and your daughter-in-law. May we all somehow use the time in wise ways. (One of the wisdoms I need to pick up is being less of a dope about broken toes;)).
Gorgeous flowers! And I can’t believe there was a robot delivering sushi.
@Kristin, Welcome to Silicon Valley;). The flowers are saving my days.
We are all creatures of habit and our new reality is a big departure from our habits. Making this adjustment if hard. No longer can we move freely and socialize with co-workers and friends. Streets and shopping districts are silent and still, almost surreal. Your photos show this stillness. I find keeping busy with projects around my home and garden fulfilling and even productive. We will get through this. We will know ourselves a bit better. In the meantime we must stay safe. For a broken toe, soaking in Epsom salts in hot water helps healing and reduces pain. Always nice to hear from you. Get well soon.
@Susan, Really wonderful comment. Thank you. And I have some Epsom salts and I will do this tonight.
Thanks for reminding me of the beautiful spring flowers at Stanford Mall. Normally I would have been there myself to enjoy them–one of my favorite places to go at this time of year.
I can still enjoy the flowers in my own garden, although again, I miss going to the nursery. I now appreciate what I do have all the more.
Sorry about your toe. Hope you are better soon. I enjoy seeing photos of your own garden.
@Susan WH, I miss going to the nursery too. I had Wegman’s from Redwood City, deliver a pieris japonica, a lot of compost, and some neem oil! That was a great day.
Thanks for a trip down memory lane. Lived in Mountain View, husband worked in Palo Alto (during a short stint in California in the late 90″s). Used to walk downtown Mountain View daily, rollerbladed near Google (can’t remember the name of the trail) and Stanford Mall was one of my favorite places. Fun to see the area again although sad it’s so empty. Janie
@Janie, My pleasure! Downtown Mountain View is such an amazingly international place, it’s like a trip in and of itself. I hope you enjoyed your short California stay.
My toes are timorous titty babies, having broken three over the years. Once, getting up from the sofa. That ten-ton coffee table simply MUST have moved itself! Again, rough housing with a pair of hound dogs, they won. Last time pushing a wonky-wheeled shopping cart down an empty aisle. Huh?
Stay well, do the warm soaks and wear shoes more often.
@Rosie, I did this standing up from my sofa! WTH!
… and I forgot my purpose…
Do you happen to know the variety of that stunning yellow iris? My common purple ones are going crazy and the Cecile Brunner has the place smelling luscious. I’ve planted a couple hundred new bulbs and have time for plenty more.
@Rosie, Glad you like the iris. It’s a hybrid of our Pacific Coast iris, a native species. They are GORGEOUS, way lower than the usual garden iris. I don’t know what kind of climate you have?
Thanks Lisa,
We straddle 8a/8b and grow Louisiana iris, but a visit to Japan last year has me longing for some Japanese varieties and now maybe a pacific coast native.
A low grower would be interesting as long as I can keep it out of a wet zone. Iris are my fav perennials. I just planted some ginger rhizomes:) Fingers crossed. Enjoy your garden!
THAT ROBOT!
ONLY IN YOUR NECK OF THE WOODS!
BEING SILCON VALLEY!
@LA CONTESSA, Totally;).
Hi Lisa, I hope your toes recover quickly! I was reading your bread post, which was lovely, and it bread for tomorrow. So I did that and came back to read this post. I use Jim Lahey’s 18-hour no-knead bread and make it in a normal loaf pan. I find the Le Creuset/dutch oven to be just enough to dissuade me from bothering. It bakes well in a loaf pan too, and that’s how I’ve done it since 2016 when I first got into bread making on a somewhat regular basis. I find the smell of rising dough is hopeful.
I stopped for a while, though, but have been back at it since mid-March. I made some pita the other week too. It was only my second time, but they turned out better than my first time about 8 years ago. I have not attempted baguettes yet! It’s always seemed way to complicated! Maybe I’ll do a little research to learn more about the process… Wishing you and your loved ones health and safety in this difficult time… (We’re hunkered down; I haven’t left the house since March 12.)
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