It's not like I don't want to........

The day has just slipped away from me. I don't regret that in the least. I read some politics-oriented material online, pulled a very few weeds in the garden(there just aren't very many), watered the greenhouse and outdoor orchids, briefly snoozed, had some granola for breakfast and lunch, fretted over paying some bills on time, changed the saddle on the Cannondale( Brooks' Saddle) to the one on my cur "well-accustomed-to-my-bum" seat that was on my Trek 3900. I don't know how long it takes to break in a new Brooks Saddle but my arse is not happy with the after-effects of the process. Besides, the damned saddle is HUGE by comparison and not "attractive", although quite pretty(as far as the craftsmanship) since it is so inflexible and my pain is too great. I also removed the cage from the back since I do not do "back packing" or overnight rides. It made the bicycle look a bit "granny" so it had to go. Nice if you need a luggage rack but otherwise, pointless. It makes the bike look sexier, too.

If there comes a time in my life when the road doesn't call, I will be surprised. The small wonders that populate the rides I take are so nice. The smell of fennel and eucalyptus in the heat of the day, the positions of the moon at night or its' peeking out from the fast-moving fog as it rushes the coast on the west winds, the various birds that take flight on winds in the daylight, the sound of those same winds rushing past my ears as I push, push, push myself on the roads and trails. And of course the smell of horses and hay whenever I get close to Golden Gate Fields. There is something profound to me about the wilds of the coast as the grey sets in hard and dulls the colors of the earth, yet those same dulled colors are vivid and piercing and draw me in and make me a part of that moment. It is rich indeed.

I can say without shame that I am in love with this place. The sounds, sights, "natives", those too "busy" to see what I see, the noisy throngs that infuse the day with needless yet needed noises so as to remind me that not far away is a place of respite and quiet. Perhaps it is in the garden here at home. Maybe it'll come on the Bay Trail, arriving just in time to splash away any stresses lodged in my brain. In the garden there is a continued "neighborhood noise" to remind me that all around me are people who live their lives anonymously to most, yet in that garden setting they become a mere distant layer in my pleasure. I walk between the front yard and the back yard(small fence divides the yard behind the house) looking at what is growing here, seeing that there is no real "organization" to it all, save the obvious: what grows in sun gets open exposure, what needs shade is planted accordingly. Otherwise it amounts to a mishmash of interesting plantings that either Gerry or myself(or both) find really interesting....

The 'lilium regale' is past the peak of its bloom cycle, at least one stem is. The second one is full on now. The smell, ohhhhh, the smell. If you like the smell of your 'lilium longiflorum' at Easter then imagine that, only taller, with Merlot blush up and down the stem and outside of the flowers, as well as thinner leaves. There is a dark blue sage(name escaping me) that is right in front of the 'lilium regale' that is of a medium, rich, delicious blue with flowers that look like lobster claws and are quite big for a salvia. The purple salvia across the fence in the back yard is easily 8 feet tall. It is loose and airy so that the hummingbirds can maneuver in and out of it with great efficiency. And, BTW, Gerry was wrong, wrong, wrong about the 'pychnostachys urticifolia'(I've forgotten the spelling.....OK, thanks Google) blooming by May 31st. It has yet to offer any flowers but when it does it will be undeniably incredible.

It is so nice to have music at work. Yes, to have the Bose System blaring some opera or whatever, AND it is so nice to sit here today at home, listening just now to a jet passing overhead, cars going up the street, people greeting each other on the sidewalks, dogs barking. No music, no TV, just the sounds of this old house and sometimes the cat's meow. In the back yard I can hear the BART trains commuting people to wherever, the locomotives blasting their horns and rumbling along through the intersections. I can also hear the distant traffic arriving to Oakland and leaving for SF on the Bay Bridge. Those are noises that are alot less intrusive then the firetrucks, ambulances and taxi horns that I had grown accustomed to living on Polk street.
The buzz of bugs here is more audible as well. Unfortunately, so is the ringing in my ears......