Category Archives: Places

Finding Life in the Desert

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The Pines to Palms Highway is the official name of a road that goes from the mountains to the desert. Here it is winding down the hill into Palm Springs.

From the overlook, when you turn the other direction, all around is desert, with not a pine tree or palm in sight. It’s barren, brown, rocky, desolate.

But a few miles of looping travel takes you into a land graced by palms.

We got to stay a couple of days in the heat of the desert. After a rather rough year, this time warmed me, baking out the stress. We relaxed. I spent hours on our little balcony reading. My own tiny oasis.

Here’s what I love about this little patch of desert. It’s so close to the brown hills, but plants and flowers and color are everywhere. My favorite is this delicate pinkness.

Some flourish in the heat. It’s pretty much a miracle.

These flowers and palms are remarkable because they grow on the edge of the rocky hills. Around where I live, I can see plenty of blooms and trees, but in Palm Desert, it’s as if every plant is a wonder just because it’s surviving.

Sometimes we travel through those hard, barren times. It’s easy to get discouraged. The pines-to-palms road reminded me that refreshing days can be so close. Maybe just down a few more winding turns in the road.

How about you? How have you been encouraged when you’re going through a rough patch?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Tuesday Muse, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tones on Tuesday, and Communal Global.

The photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures Mary and Isobel and Nancy Claey’s texture Argo.

 

 

 

 

The No-Longer-Shiny Radio Flyer Wagon

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Time does not pass, it continues.      — Marty Rubin

We went for a welcome getaway to the little mountain town of Idyllwild last week. In among the pines, we found old things. Chairs, shovels, gas cans, and a once-red Radio Flyer wagon.

The funny thing about these antiques is that they once were used for something. Kids piled in the wagon for rides on the dirt paths. Men worked with the shovels. People relaxed in the chairs and talked. Babies played with the rag dolls. And apparently a lot of sewing went on in these mountains, too.

And of course, dinners prepared on the hot stove nourished the families here.

Now these items sit and rust. Paint peels.

I love the character of them, though. How fascinating to imagine the red wagon full of laughing little ones, the sewing machines cranking out clothing, the stove baking an apple pie. Dinner served on the green dining table.

People live and thrive in this town today. The kids play, families eat home-cooked meals. Maybe someone sews curtains. Life continues, and life contains both the rusted and the new. That’s so easy to see and appreciate here in the mountains.  I love these reminders of a time when life was different but really much the same.

How about you? What reminds you that time moves on while life continues?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Tuesday Muse, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tones on Tuesday, and Communal Global.

The photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures Revolution and Pumpkin Grunge and Nancy Claey’s texture Amy.

 

 

 

And You Smile

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Not by appointment do we meet delight or joy; they heed not our expectancy; but round some corner of the streets of life they of a sudden greet us with a smile.                                                                                                   — Gerald Massey

Can you think of a time when delight popped into your life and surprised you? This happened to me literally around a street corner on a visit to Greenfield Village in Michigan. You walk into the village and one of the first sights to greet you is a Model T zipping down the road. And you smile!

These cars, built by the Ford company in the early 1900s, still putter along surprisingly well. What’s so much fun is that you can ride in one. A nice “young” man drives, pointing out sights along the way. You pass the horse-drawn cart, the old bus. You relax in the wide, tree-lined lanes. You are transported to another time.

Here’s what Henry Ford said of his great invention, the venerable Model T:

“I will build a car for the great multitude. It will be large enough for the family, but small enough for the individual to run and care for. It will be constructed of the best materials, by the best men to be hired, after the simplest designs that modern engineering can devise. But it will be so low in price that no man making a good salary will be unable to own one – and enjoy with his family the blessing of hours of pleasure in God’s great open spaces.”

All that day, as we walked around the village, we would round a corner and see another Model T chugging along. Do you think Henry Ford had any idea that folks would still be enjoying “hours of pleasure” in his Model T a hundred years later?

How about you? What’s popped in to bring you joy lately?

Linking up with Tuesday Muse, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tones on Tuesday, and Communal Global.The theme at Texture Tuesday is a photo that pops.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures Evolve and Mary and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s texture Silver Lining Playbook.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With Love, to Boston

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Boston. Our hearts ache for you this week. For your people, for those gone too soon, for those hurt, for those struggling. But this is what I know about you, Boston. You are a city of heroes. Always have been. We saw that again this week. The bravery of those in uniform and simply citizens makes us proud. Even the small acts of kindness — the police officer who made a run to store to get milk for kids under the lockdown, the marathoner who gave his medal to another runner who got only a few blocks from the finish line when the explosions broke her dream of finishing. The strength and perseverance of your people shined bright all week.

This is what I know about Boston, a place I visited just a few times but love, love, love. Boston is the home of the Freedom Trail, a walking path meandering by places where heroes stood.

The old buildings stand tall among the new, the brick among the glass, a picturesque place for us to enjoy.

The balcony of the Old State House is where the Declaration of Independence was first read in public. Future First Lady Abigail Adams reported to her husband John that at the end of the reading, “three cheers rended the air.”

Inside the Old State House you can explore the building, imagine the people rushing up and down the stairs. You can see a drum played at the Battle of Bunker Hill, just a few miles away. The Boston Massacre unfolded in front of Old State House.

The Old North Church is where Paul Revere watched for the lights — one if by land, two if by sea — and rode off on his epic journey to warn the patriots that the British army was on its way.

The heroes of older times lie buried in the graveyards on the Freedom Trail. Their legacy inspires us to cherish freedom and liberty for all.

Boston, your heroes of April 2013 inspire us, too. We want to pass on their legacy in acts of kindness, in looking for those who need help and being a helper, even in small ways. For these present-day heroes of Boston, for their bravery and courage, let’s rend the air with three cheers.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures History, Revolution, and Felicity and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s textures Zia and nc0332, which is from her collection, Boston.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Place of Peace

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Have you ever missed something fascinating because it’s too close? Mentioned too often? Too unmysterious? This week I realized that in my years in San Diego, I had never visited the mission. I learned about it in grade school, but somehow never went to see it. So I did.

It’s the oldest in a string of missions winding up the coast of California. It was founded in 1769 by Father Junipero Serra. The original buildings are long gone, but those there now date from the 1830s. By California standards, that is historical indeed.

The mission is walled in with gates. The walls are high.

I wandered into the church. A caretaker locked the door behind me. I got the feeling it’s a protected, private place. But I was free to go through the church into the garden. Ah, the garden.

Here, inside the tall walls, I felt peace. Spring blooms scent the fresh air. Crosses made of bricks dot the grounds. The bells stand ready to ring. No noise, no cars, no hurry. Time doesn’t seem to matter.

My trip to the mission brought an unexpected respite from the hustle and bustle going on outside its walls. I plan to go back. Because I know it’s a place of peace.

How about you? Where do you go when you want to find a place of peace?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures History and 3003. Some of the photos have 2 textures, which is the assignment this week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Place of Light

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You will find something surprising on the Freedom Trail in Boston. Along this walk of historical buildings that date from the American Revolution is a memorial built only a few years ago. You round a corner, and here is what you see.

This is the New England Holocaust Memorial. It stands as an imposing tribute to hope. The idea for this was born of survivors of the Holocaust who live in Boston. They survived the camps with at least a tiny shred of hope intact, and they started over. They are successful in life, with families and businesses.

The designers wrote, “The memorial to darkness is built with light.” And so what you see and experience is the light through the glass walls. The 6 glass towers represent the 6 death camps in Poland during WWII.

On the soaring walls you see numbers etched in the glass — 6 million of them to represent all those who lost their lives in the Holocaust. You walk through the glass, marveling at the sheer number of numbers.

My husband Curt snapped this photo of me at the memorial. I think I was torn between smiling for the photo and thinking that it’s a travesty to smile at such a sobering place. Yet we can smile at the hope this place represents.

Last week, a Commemoration was held at the memorial. The committee organizing this writes: “This year, we honor the strength and resiliency that enabled individuals to survive and rebuild lives of meaning, dignity and purpose. Their courage in bearing witness and transmitting memory to new generations sustains our commitment to remember the Holocaust for all time.”

I can’t begin to imagine the life of the survivors. But we can all honor them. We can learn from them. They show us a picture of hope and resiliency. We can cry for them and for the unfathomable sorrow of the Holocaust. We can smile because hope lived through the darkness and shines again in the light.

Linking up with Project 52 and Little Things Thursday.

Photos are processed with the textures Lincoln and Braveheart from Nancy at A Rural Journal.

 

 

 

 

 

When You Need to Breathe

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A walk on the nearby island of Coronado was just the thing. Last Sunday, we were facing a week with surgery and a hospital stay for my husband, plus the usual work and teaching for me. We needed to breathe, forget our worries, and take in the fresh sea air and sun.

The sky was a watercolor picture against waving palms.

Coronado is home to a naval station, and the nautical theme might show up anywhere. For example, in a little local park.

Historic homes line the streets. Some resident gardening enthusiasts are already working on spring gardens.

How can you feel anything but relaxed looking at this front yard?

Here’s an intriguing gate. We guessed no one had gone through it for a while.

Late afternoon shadows brought out the brightness in this freshly planted bloom.

Around the last corner, I found a new friend. Or a yard guard. I don’t know. He’s cute but inscrutable.

We ended the day with dinner at Miguel’s and pomegranate margarita’s. The week went well, my guy is recovering nicely. We really needed this mini-getaway, though. It let me clear my mind before jumping into the fray.

How about you? How do you gear up for a stressful week?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Little Things Thursday, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures Daisy and Isobel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Scrubby Pine

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Torrey Pines is an area of beach and cliffs in San Diego.

It’s also home to the Torrey Pine, a tree found only here and one other place, named after a botanist’s friend in the 1800s. The scrubby pine grows out of the sandy soil and hangs on the edges of hills.

This pine bends without breaking when sea winds buffet the cliffs.

The Torrey Pine is not the most majestic of pines, not the most beautiful. It is distinctive, though. The stand of pines helped guide those at sea to the shore long before a lighthouse sat atop a San Diego point.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” We may wish we were more beautiful, had accomplished more, or any number of things. The Torrey Pine stands as a reminder to just be ourselves. You never know who is lost at sea, looking to you for inspiration.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Little Things Thursday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Ready to Waltz, 1440, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures Daisy, Isobel and If Only.

 

A Kiss to Remember

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Remember the iconic photo of the sailor and nurse kissing at the end of WWII? The photo became larger than life this weekend in San Diego. This tall statue now graces the waterside next to the USS Midway on the bay.

We took in the view from all angles. I love the tiny nurse’s cap, the sailor’s closed eyes, the wrinkles in the uniform, the seams in the stockings.

On the day of unveiling, all ages gathered around and remembered when news of peace caused celebration. The young, born decades after that day, will now hear what happened.

This photo mat honoring WWII service people lay on the lawn near “The Kiss.”

The little square photos of all branches of the services, men and women filled the mat.  Look at this guy’s goggles.

How would you like to lug around this gal’s camera?

The unknown are mixed with the well known, heroes all. Here’s Ernest Borgnine, who became an actor after the war. McHale’s Navy, anyone?

Here’s Joe Kennedy, Jr., who died in WWII, having no idea his brother John would become President of the United States.

An earlier kiss statue didn’t stand up to time and weather. This one is another, more sturdy, cast with bronze.

It informs and reminds us that we owe respect and gratitude to those who made this kind of freedom celebration possible. Young people will hear and know about the heroes like Joe Kennedy. The memories will stand up to time, just as they should.

How about you? What reminds you to be grateful?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Little Things Thursday, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s Downton Abbey textures Mary, Sybil, Anna, and Isobel.

Here’s the original photo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the statue in black and white:

 

 

The Charm of the Antique

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Do you ever feel like the “you” people see is not as shiny and pretty as you would like? Whether it’s from the toll of years of life or you were up with your sick baby in the night or bad news is wearing you down, you may be feeling ragged.

Last week I spent a day in an old mining town that makes no apologies for losing the patina of newness. Peeling paint, broken fences, dusty old things are what you find here. In fact, it’s why people come to visit.

You’ll see signs bragging of the old, the antique.

Even the buildings that are kept up, like the Julian Hotel, have a rustic look. The hotel, built in 1897, boasts a golden front . . .

but around back the steps show their age.

If a crew came in with a truckload of paint and gardening tools and fixed up the tiny town, the charm would disappear. Julian is fascinating because the old is okay, the rough surfaces are the norm. The town puts on no airs. It is simply itself.

If you’re feeling a bit like the old fence, take heart. Your experiences, your problems and worries that have etched wrinkles on your face or left circles under the eyes — these are what make you charming. They are what make you real.

Wishing you a week of being comfortable simply being yourself!

 

Linking up with Fridays Fences, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays and Communal Global.
Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s texture minus 43.

 

 

 

 

 

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