a conference of crows
downtown LA looms above clouds
mountains in the mist




A number of years ago I lived on a canyon rim in the Panhandle of Texas, a side canyon to Palo Duro Canyon, the second largest canyon in the country. I wrote this poem when I lived there.
The canyon edge looms out my bedroom windows,
pale adobe, stark.
Fall to death or serious injury.
I will not fall; I love living on the edge.
Rain brings a one hundred foot deluge,
roar of water, red adobe, cascading, screaming.
Someone said my house is pink; it is not pink.
Color of canyon, worldwide color,
Moroccan, Pueblo, Saudi, Mali, Navaho, Timbuktu,
desert alive and lovely.
Everywhere.
Three bucks watch me through my bedroom windows.
They see me move; they stare.
Isabella stands, rigid, watching…what?
I kneel to her level, follow her eyes.
Bobcat casually climbs the canyon wall, impervious.
He marks the juniper tree, walks a deer path,
disappears, secretive, rarely seen.
The huge hoot owl’s voice echoes down the canyon,
drifting into my dreams.
A young roadrunner calls, scratchy voice,
running across the patio–on the edge.
In spring the mocking bird sings all night,
“This is my territory.”
I sing all year, full of joy!

After dropping my grandson off at his apartment in Goleta, I went in search of a trail about which I had read. Well, GPS did not take me there but to another trail. Here is where I began.

It’s summer and the wetlands are not very wet but this goes between two wetlands. This whole area is apparently for wetland preservation. Lower after looping around, I came to a woods.



I tried to figure out a way to take a photo that would encompass the entirety of these large, tall trees but gave up.

The trail sort of loops back and near here I saw a picnic table covered in graffiti. And then after walking to the other side of the wooded area, I saw this old barn.

Once upon a time, it appears to have been quite fancy.
I walked back to my car and drove to Carpenteria, a smaller beach town south of Santa Barbara toward Ventura. Carpenteria is not fancy like some other beach towns. It is friendly, laid back. I was hungry so went to the Dart Coffee place which was closed the last time I stopped there.

The empanada was yummy and served with their own chimichurri. This is a Frida book I have never seen before; it was on a shelf with other books for anyone to read.
This coffee shop sells cards with paintings similar to this one on the wall in a hallway that goes to other shops.

After wandering around this area and trying to find a shop where I previously bought a sweater (the shop was gone), I walked toward the beach.

In the distance beyond the ocean you can see the Channel Islands.

And turning around and facing the other direction, I saw this.
As a person who works with high school students mostly non-white, many of whom have family members who are undocumented, I worry and need to find daily delights to stay sane. I decided to make a list of some of the past week’s delights:
-afternoons 70 degrees, sunny, no wind
-hummingbirds sipping nectar from both flowers and the two feeders
-singing a song the lyrics of which come from a poem by Langston Hughes where he dreams a world with no racism
-sitting on the back patio, listening to birdsong while I read a book about delights
-learning that all the rains have eliminated drought in California
-appreciating all the colors of the flowers blooming in my yard

A garden of delights
my my new goal.
Why do I/we need
such a garden?
Sanity, yours and mine.
Genocide in Gaza, Sudan,
eastern Congo, probably
even in other places where
there’s no news.
Poverty here in the richest
nation on Earth.
Poverty my neighbor seems
shocked when I tell her.
People living in condemned
trailers, no heat, no water–
It’s freezing inside.
People surviving, barely.
Malnourished children, big
hungry eyes, staring.
A garden of delights
my new goal.
Why do I/we need
such a garden?
Masked men and some women
attacking people in the streets,
in their homes,
knocking down doors.
smashing windows.
You’d think I’m describing
Russia, Nazi Germany
but no, I’m describing
happenings in my own
county and
across the US.
A garden of delights
my new goal.
Sanity = Delights
I look out my window
purple mountains loom
in crystalline air.
Recent rains create
emerald hills,
blooming freeway daisies,
roses in my garden,
pink, sunset colors, snow.
Bougainvillea the color of blood
climbs my garden wall.
The turquoise fountain gurgles.
Photo of daughter and grandson
make me smile.
Symbols, sacred corn grace
walls and make me
remember cornfields in summer
when on a hot day
I could hear corn grow.
Three different pine trees whisper,
the Soleri bell rings in wind.
Ah, yes, I live in a garden,
a garden of delights.
And I remain sane
for at least one
more day.

This is the novel that shocked him by selling over a million copies and made him famous. It is the story of Toru, a young college student, whose two best friends from childhood change his life. One, his best male friend, commits suicide unexpectedly. Afterwards, the other friend, Naoko, a beautiful and mentally fragile young woman, and Toru spend their weekends just walking together all over Tokyo. As her mental health deteriorates, he increasingly falls in love with her and tries to help. Meanwhile, as Naoko becomes mentally more unstable, he meets another young woman, Midori, who is adventuresome, outgoing, and mentally stable. He does not want to give up on Naoko but is also drawn to Midori with whom he attends college.
The novel is written from the viewpoint of Toru. He tells not just about these women but also his very eccentric roommate at a dormitory and his friend, Nagasawa, who is very smart and disciplined but also quite immoral by Toru’s standards. Although the novel takes place in a Japan of several decades ago, Toru’s narrative and life seem quite modern and realistic.
One thing a reader from the US might notice is that all the characters go everywhere using public transportation. No cars are ever mentioned. Since several of the characters commit suicide, I decided to research the suicide rate in Japan. For decades the suicide rate of young people in Japan has been quite high and continues to be a concern there.
Although I am many decades older than all the main characters, I could not stop reading. This is a meaningful, very well written novel which I highly recommend. It is my second Murakami novel recently and I will read more.
Note: The version I read has the author’s notes from 2023 which are very informative and interesting. He apparently has to leave his home in Japan and go elsewhere, e.g. Greece, to write.

Travel the World 4 Less
A Glimpse into My Life & Passions
Ceto-Magoism, the Whale-guided Way of WE in S/HE
Exploring the F-word in religion at the intersection of scholarship, activism, and community.
ANCESTRAL FOOD. HERBAL WISDOM. MAGICAL COOKERY. SEASONAL CELEBRATION.
inesemjphotography
politics, engineering, parenting, relevant things over coffee.
Food is the best expression of every emotion. Explore through my reviews, recipes, events and more.
Smile! A Site for Friends Wherever You Are!
inspiring personal growth through poetry and writing
Combining atheism with whimsy. This is a Fair and Balanced blog based on opinion unencumbered by fact.
Odds and ends ~ My Life
Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.
bripike@gmail.com
A wildlife filmmaker in Africa
A Geeky Feminist's Musings On Pop Culture
"5 minute walks"