Redwood tree absorbs the mist.
Jasmine fragrance fills th air.
Scarlet, hot pink, peach, orange and multicolored
rose blooms grace the garden wall.
Hummingbirds drink nectar from the feeder
in the lilac bush.
Morning joy.
Delights 6
spring
California Adventure 2
Although my son had been here a couple of times previously, he had never been up Mt. Baldy so we decided to drive a way I had never gone before, the Glendora Mountain Highway. It begins in the mountains above the town of Glendora, CA, and goes approximately 22 miles east where it intersects the highway going up Mt. Baldy at the Mt. Baldy Village. This road is not for the faint of heart. Although in good condition and well paved and two lanes wide, it is narrow and windy and without guard rails. Unfortunately, we did not stop and I was so busy driving, I could not see all the views. Unlike most of the highways and roads up toward the mountains all of which have views to the south, this highway crosses over to the other side so that many of views reveal all the rugged mountains to the north. I will attempt this adventure again, but not alone. For most of the trip we saw no other cars, and there is no cell phone reception up this way so best to have someone along with you if you decide to drive this.
After we intersected the main road, we drove to the top but the very top is blocked off so we turned around and parked to hike to Angel Falls. The following photos were taken on this hike. Most of it is paved, but the very last part up to the falls is steep and gravel and necessitates crossing the stream below the falls. We decided to hike farther up a gravel road that climbs up the mountain where the paved part stops. Angel Falls can be heard long before you can see it. This is a relatively easy hike. Even on a Monday, there were quite a few people headed to the Falls so if you do not want crowds, go on a weekday.
Yes, that is snow on the left side.
Delights – 5
reading,
listening to birds
the gurgling of water,
looking up to watch
four hummingbirds challenge
each other at the feeder, and
I notice I’m surrounded by flowers
and the scent of orange blossoms.
Delights–4
Spring
Bird songs
Bougainvillea wall climbing
Essence of orange
Peach blossoms
Beauty
Joy
Spring at The Huntington
Breezes caress
Scents of jasmine, roses
Rainbow colors
These are growing on a large rock.
Simple Pleasures
Taste the honey on your tongue
avocado, dark brown
clover, golden
so many shades, textures
sweetness
pleasure
Feel the breeze caress your cheeks
bringing scents
honeysuckle
lilacs
peach blossoms
pleasure
Touch the silken fabric of your scarf
wind softness around you
midnight and snow
rainbows
desert sunsets
pleasure
Listen to the birds outside your window
mockingbird love songs
a rapture’s scream
the whir of hummingbird wings
emerald, indigo, grey
pleasure
Look at flowers blooming everywhere
crimson bougainvillea
roses, sunshine colors
pale pink, vermillion
beauty
pleasure
Sing a song of Gratitude
Canyon de Chelley–Part One
One of the most famous canyons in the country resides inside the Dine (Navaho) Nation. While administered by the National Park service, it is also the home of several Dine families. You can drive through the roads on the top freely, stop at various viewpoints, take photos, etc. Here are the various views I saw last week while there. The bottom of the canyon is restricted. To go there, you need a permit and a Dine (Navaho) guide. More about that in the next post.
Several families live in the bottom of the canyon, especially during the summer months. You cannot go into the bottom of the canyon without a permit and a Navaho guide.
Walking in Pasadena Near Rose Bowl
Fearless little bird with chocolate brown head runs beside me
on the road. At the intersection I circle to the left, following
a familiar route. The heavy tree canopy here always astonishes.
It’s almost like walking in a forest.
The architectural variety amazes: mid-century modern, Spanish,
colonial, ranch, the smallest I am guessing contains 3500 sq. ft. One
house encompasses an entire city block, fronted with heavy, high
fences and metal gates. Privacy obsessed.
I’m watching my time. I don’t want to be late for singing
practice. I take a new route, perhaps a shortcut. It’s
120 degrees of a circle. Not quite a regular street,
not quite an alley, a combination–fronts of a few houses
and the backside of others. At one place it angles more;
I come to a three story stone fortress with intricate
geometrical designs vertically running up and down
the walls. No windows. A sign says, “No trespassing.”
Realization hits me. This is the other side of a house
I saw last year through a gap in a wall on another street.
Three ladies, strangers, asked me about it, told me they’d
heard it was the creation of a famous architect. I researched,
asked others, no one knew. Back then, I tried to find the front,
failed. Now I’m looking at it, wonderstruck. It appears abandoned,
an architectural wonder belonging to another time and place.
Time to rush, a bit lost, I look at my phone map, finish the loop,
find a familiar street, walk faster. Then I see a large, white, colonial house,
weeds knee high, black shutters hanging askew. Here it is abandoned
in the midst of multi-million dollar houses. I wonder what the neighbors
think. Walking on I hear water rushing, peer through the hedges–a stream
runs downhill from the side of this huge brown house at least 100 feet
and gurgles in a pool behind the bushes. Hurrying, I stop in front of one
of my favorite houses, a one-story, tan, Spanish style, small compared
to the others nearby. I take a photo of the tree in front by the sidewalk,
its impressive girth impossible to ignore.
Finally, I’m near my destination, walking in front of The Gamble House,
a tourist destination made famous by the movie, “Back to the Future”,
a structure I see at least twice a week.
Poems
I started out thinking I would write a poem per day for National Poetry Month. Well, I’m a bit behind on that, but here are two of several I have written so far.
Spring
The mockingbird awakens me with his song.
A hummingbird, dressed in green with an iridescent
orange collar, flits by my head then sips nectar
from a scarlet bougainvillea blossom.
The neighborhood barn owl hoots at dawn and dusk.
A black and red/orange bird I’ve never seen before
lights on a palo verde limb.
A Western Bluebird dips its beak repeatedly in
the talavera birdbath.
Remember
In this world steeped in senseless violence remember
each day to find a piece of beauty:
-rosebuds opening
-the scent of jasmine
-a friend’s smile
-a bit of birdsong
In this world ravaged by wars remember
each day to find the jewels of joy:
-listen to a child’s laughter
-dance to a favorite song
-walk in the morning sunshine
-tell someone you love them
Perfect Spring Day
They tell writers, “Never ever use cliches.”
Sometimes I question that. When you
word a cliche, nearly everyone knows
exactly what you mean. For example:
This is a perfect spring day:
-birdsong wafting here and there,
mostly mockingbirds except for those
irredescent, orange-throated
hummingbirds at their feeder
-wind singing through the pines
-open windows for a change; it’s
75 degrees and sunny
-magenta and scarlet bougainvillea
climbing the garden wall
-white and lavender lantana
outdoing themselves with
spread and bloom
-geraniums in full flower
-mint growing so fast and tall
I already need to trim it.
I lounge on the patio reading
another novel, drinking rosewater
lassi, munching mixed nuts.
I feel gratitude for this
perfect spring day.
writingontherim 