My next door neighbors have been rolling their eyes at me for months now due to my complete lack of familiarity with what lies east of this county. It seems I always go west or south, never east or north. Who knows why? Maybe it’s due to my natural human inclination to go towards what is known, what has served me in the past, where I have friends. Maybe it’s just easy. Anyway, as my past two posts have indicated the Universe has been shaking up my reality a bit, and you know when the Universe moves around what you perceive to be permanent (ha ha ha), cracks in the walls appear and in those lovely cracks new ideas lodge themselves, and some of them get acted upon. Like today. Dragging out a map (gasp!) I actually charted the way to the next county over, which is truly Not That Far, my dears. So it’s really not much of a stretch. Except I’d never done it before. OK, that’s not completely true. I think I went over that backroad in my 20’s once. Or maybe in my 30’s. But who is keeping track? Not I. Today is today and this is the day I went over it today. And guess what? It was beautiful! And easy! And I will do it again! Here’s what I did, and found.

Heading first north, and then east I found my way into the neighboring Lake County, so it was quite appropriate when I spotted my first lake!

Pulling over into one of the many convenient places for Slow Drivers (we Californians are in a hurry and it is socially imperative for one to get out of the way if one marches to a slower drummer), I was able to walk about. Peering over the edge from where I stood, I was completely enchanted when I found this! (Who installed a swing?? And what fun to imagine the play that ensued here!)

While contemplating the answers to that question and those images I suddenly became aware I was not alone. Someone was down there fishing! Who does this in this day and age? Who finds a secluded spot and drops a line and hopes for the best?

“What will you catch?” I called down to him. “Maybe a bass,” he said. “Is the water clean?” I asked. “Clean enough,” the man said. I loved this exchange. “I’m taking your picture,” I said. And did. He laughed.

Back in the car, inspired and up for more adventure. More I got when I came to a lodge and found myself stopping, hoping to get a better insider view of the lake. Hoping, hoping. No one was in the office, so I sauntered out back with full access to the tourist view of the lake. Lucky me. Camera in hand, I went down to the water’s edge. Two women were engaged in a conversation but no one seemed to mind my presence. Here’s what I got to see.

Kayaks. I wonder if I stayed here if I would be brave enough to go in a kayak? Hmmm…

I’m now noticing the lake narrows into what looks like a river feeding the lake. I come closer to the water’s edge and a group of ducks respond by taking flight. Snap.

I am delighted. I now turn my attention to the two women, one of whom, it turns out, does, in fact, work in the office. She tells me I am at Blue Lakes, and that what seems to be a river is actually this blue lake spilling into a second area known as Lower Blue Lakes, so headed the opposite direction from what I had been thinking. She tells me that the lake is fed by underground springs long ago created by an earthquake’s shifting the earth, and that there are areas of the lake where no one knows how deep it is. Aw, the mystery and intrigue! I see myself returning to this lodge, but thank this kind woman and continue on my journey, soon taking a side road that would spill me out into a small town fairly nearby. But, oh the getting there! I found myself pulling over several times, as I would be remiss not to share.

Can you imagine? And, of course I had to see this from the inviting and splendid entry.

I’d only just resumed my drive when I came full stop to capture this amazing old grove.

I still don’t know what kind of trees these are. One might suspect walnuts, given the area, but they are not consistent with the thickening host trunk one would expect. Any ideas?

No sooner was I in the car than I had to pull over again to peer over a bridge. Yes, glad I did.

Worth every stop. It’s not the destination, right? It’s the getting there. And get there I did, when my back road suddenly became the back door to the little town of Lakeport, which sits at the north end of what (apparently) is the largest natural lake in California, Clear Lake. I for sure had never been to Lakeport before. Charming, charming, my friends. I’d go just to hang out with the birds!

I could never tire of the beauty of a mallard. This one gingerly made his way in another direction but not before I caught his lovely image. Thankfully, he was headed toward the safety of friends. I was a little surprised, but happy, to find seagulls this far inland, among the ducks.

But you were probably hoping to get a glimpse of the lake, right?

Happy to oblige!

And what is particularly wonderful are the settings for enjoying the lake. Someone with a clear mind and kind heart did some good planning.

And can you imagine this gazebo emanating soothing music on a Sunday afternoon? I can.

One more peek at some of my new friends. Awww, Mr. and Mrs. Hello!

Picture postcard perfect, a nearby palm punctuates my day’s journey.

What better way to recall the supreme advantages of moving through any inner resistance to exploring new territories than this day? Lesson learned. What will I do next??

Love and travel blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

Another Happy Postscript!: Valerie of Elysian Field has honored Plant Whatever Brings You Joy with a Proximity Award. Details here! (And thank you, Valerie!) http://elysianfieldoriginals.blogspot.com/

Posted on March 28th, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: Field Trips | 29 Comments »

For the last month or so I kept noticing that the first two lines of Emily Dickinson’s poem “Death” were occasionally passing through my mind, like the crawl on CNN. I am very fond of Emily so I was simultaneously intrigued and curious. Last Friday evening I received a phone call that began with the words, “Are you sitting down?” One knows from experience that nothing really fabulous is going to follow that introduction, right? And so my father left the planet Earth. I was immediately filled with an immense and expanded sense of gratitude that this man had been my father. He was a writer. He had been an advertising executive. And I fell very close to that magnificent tree. Most of my posts were read to him over the phone before posting. He was a big fan. When I called him he would notice the phone ID and answer, “Is this the author, Kathryn Hall?” Very endearing as you can imagine, my dears.

This Sunday I had planned to celebrate my next birthday. I had already decided and advised old, close, dear friends that I would share my birthday with my daughter, having just returned to Northern California, as my readers know, after a ten year absence. I had planned to order our traditional Princess cake and ask the bakers to put across the top “FULL CIRCLE CELEBRATION.” We are proceeding with this celebration. But now there will be three candles, not two. And the candles will now honor three generations of writers, completing our various circles simultaneously: I for having gone around the sun one more time; Antonia for returning to her roots; and my beloved father for having finished his time on our precious planet Earth. We will be blessed to be surrounded by the dearest of women who have witnessed with us all the stages and acts life has to offer: great comings, great returnings, births, deaths, marriages, and the growing up of our children together, and not so together. The full gestalt.

I have been working nearly compulsively in my large garden almost since hearing of this passing. You can imagine. I know in my heart of hearts and give the deepest thanks that our Earth always stands beckoning us with her bounteous gifts and unconditional love and healing. She is our ultimate Mother. We sing of her blessings. Yes, we sing of her blessings. And we reap them each time we choose to turn to her. She wraps us in her Earthy arms and protects and advises and nurtures us. And we are so blessed.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

–Emily Dickinson

In honor of Nelson Wesley Hall (1921-2009)

Tend your hearts.

Love and many blessings,
Kathryn xoxoox

Posted on March 10th, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: People at Life | 63 Comments »