Suzie Talks Me For a Walk

 Our visit with our Carlin grandkids in California is winding down. Tomorrow we fly back to Georgia. This morning I was thrilled that Susannah wanted to take a walk with me. We began the same route that we'd taken with her sisters a few days ago -- up Anza past the newly renovated house next door then up the private drive to Cabrillo Dr and the big water tank, down the hill to the east a little and then back.

I suggested we sit on the new wall next door right on Anza for a picture.

That was my last contribution to how the walk would go today. Suz is an assertive four-year-old and arranged the rest of the stops and pictures and the turn-around spot. 

Pausing in front of the passion flower vines with her walking stick and just a bit of the roof of her house in the background.

When I asked how much she loves me she used to stretch her arms wide. Now she thinks it's cute to go further and have them meet in a full 360 degrees of love.

We were entiquied by the long tree branch that had grown along a the chain link fence and actually engulfed bits of it.

These showy succulents made another opportunity for a photo.

She sniffed each flower we found and pronounced the scent of each "beautiful".  

The huge water tank the the very top of Cabrillo Drive was another photo op.

When she found a discarded office chair she had to pose in it.

She delighted in the California deep red cousin of our southern Maypop or Passion flower.

The Light

My Mother's 103rd birthday would have been later this week. We lost her in 2021 at the age of 98. Mother had a way with. words and loved to write - sermons, blog posts, letters, and poems. This poem is one of my favorites. 

The Light

My father always left a light for me . . .

Against the nightime shadows . . .

Lovingly.

He left the door unlocked . . .

It opened wide

And I could safely find,

My way inside.

Beyond the grave

I see a light . . . I see

The Lights of home . . . 

God left a light for me.

So I can walk through death.

With faith . . . not fear.

I see the Lights of home,

And God is near.

- Ruth Baird Shaw 1978.

A Morning Walk With Clem, Ruth, & Suz

Today all three girls wanted to join me for a walk!

We posed at the front gate for a picture while we were fresh.

Here we are on the small private road that joins Anza to Cabrillo Drive. The tall skinny tree is actually in back edge of their yard.

We were impressed with how the folks at this house, built right on little Cabrillo Drive, has such nice flowers and succulent plants.

About halfway down the hill to the east are more gorgeous succulents.

Whatever this flower is, it is fragrant!

At the bottom Clem and Ruth started right back up the steep hill leaving Suz and especially me far behind!

But that gave Suzie and me a chance to see this small hawk.

Nearer the top Ms. Juna, a neighbor stopped to say hi and to introduce us to her her husband Scott.

We were tired but happy when we got back.

 

Walking with Clementine

 One of the great joys of my last trip top Vista, California was getting to take several nice long walks with my eldest granddaughter Clementine. Today, a Saturday, was our first opportunity for such a walk on this trip and what a nice walk we had.

We started by walking up the hill off of Anza to the huge water tank on Carillo Dr. There we met a neighbor, Ms. Juna, who showed us the beautiful view from her yard. We could barely make out a bit of the Pacific through the haze. On a clear day she says you can see one of the Channel Islands and even a bit of Catalina Island. 

Toward the bottom of Carrillo Dr. near Smith St. we met another neighbor, Will, walking his dog, and asked him to snap our picture.  

That's where we saw this beautiful Morning Glory.

From Carillo we walked across Smith to Townsite and then across Vista Way to the Nature Trail. There we saw Western Sycamores and talked about their "Christmas balls" and "naked limbs". We saw a hummingbird flitting about but not close enough to catch a good picture.

This Townsend's Warbler was a much more cooperative model...

...flitting from one nearby low branch to another... 

and pretty much completely ignoring us.

Very near the warbler three kids and their father came along. I asked Matteo to snap our picture.

We continued down the Nature Trail to Wildwood Park and then along Vista Way through the little memorial to service members to the old downtown section of Vista.

Vista has lots of public art. Clementine calls this sculpture "The Time Machine".  

At Danny's Donuts I decided to buy a dozen so we could take some back to the rest of the family. Clementine picked out some special ones-- a heart shaped one, and one topped by Oreos. But when we were ready to each eat one she chose a strawberry donut...

...and I chose a blueberry donut.

Right next to Danny's Donuts is a flower stand. Since this is Valentine's Day they were VERY busy. Clementine picked out a beautiful, bouquet to take back to her Granny and her Mom.

Just as we were nearing home again we saw TWO hawks, and while we were looking at the hawks Clem noticed that an airplane was writing a message in the sky. It turned out he had almost finished...

... but we got to see him cross his "A".

When we got home there was a Red Shouldered Hawk right there on a wire near the driveway!

A Poem: For Alex Jeffrey Pretti by Amanda Gorman

For Alex Jeffrey Pretti

Murdered by federal agents January 24, 2026

by Amanda Gorman

We wake with

no words, just woe

& wound. Our own country shoot

ing us in the back is not just brutal

ity; it’s jarring betrayal; not enforcement,

but execution. A message: Love your people & you

will die. Yet our greatest threat isn’t the outsiders

among us, but those among us who never look

within. Fear not the those without papers, but those

without conscience. Know that to care intensively,

united, is to carry both pain-dark horror for today

& a profound, daring hope for tomorrow. We can feel

we have nothing to give, & still belove this world wait

ing, trembling to change. If we cannot find words, may

we find the will; if we ever lose hope, may we never lose our

humanity. The only undying thing is mercy, the courage to open

ourselves like doors, hug our neighbor,

& save one more bright, impossible life.

Another Murder by MAGA's Secret Police

The President of the United States is a liar. We have known that for decades. Anyone who has eyes and ears and has paid reasonable attention knew about his lies concerning the September 11, 2001 attacks and about the Central Park Five and about President Obama's birthplace. As a presidential candidate and as a first term president he told documented lies in virtually every public appearance. Then came his 2020 election defeat. The lies became part of an attempt to overthrow our republic. And now in his second term he lies about the deaths of over 100 civilians on the high seas. And his lies underlie the invasion of our cities that have resulted in the deaths of Renee Good and now Alex Pretti. Adding extra pain to these victims families he and his minions tell cruel lies about the victims.

We do not yet know all the facts about the outrage today. The specific guilt of Alex Pretti's direct attackers is not yet proven.

But the unAmerican nature of the MAGA regime is beyond question. There was NO legitimate reason for this horrible chaos. I believe chaos IS the reason from the viewpoint of Stephen Miller and Donald Trump. And it has resulted again in an unnecessary death.

Continued support for the MAGA regime by those who understand civics and American values is despicable.

I will fight in every non-violent and ethical way available to me to defeat the MAGA regime and consign their racist and fascist beliefs to the dustbin of history. If you love America and also believe in the non-violent tactics of MLK then please join this effort.

I saw what I saw on January Sixth.

I saw what I saw when Renee Good was murdered.

I saw what I saw when Alex Pretti was killed.

I stand for the American values of:

• freedom of speech

• freedom of assembly

• due process

• innocence until guilt is proven in court.

55 Years!

I knew when we started out in my little Opel Kadette from Wilmore, Kentucky, that I would take an unannounced side trip around Fort Mountain along the way to Atlanta.

I wanted to ask a question.

I wanted the right answer.

I needed a little help...

... and I thought the sound of Holly Creek

splashing down the mountain,

the smell of green pines,

the majesty of the Cohutta wilderness...

We walked among the giant pines.

She rested against one and I leaned in to kiss her,

and asked my question.

She gave the right answer!

Just one word expressed unreservedly, enthusiastically, beautifully.

That was 55 years ago today.

(The photos are from a camping/hiking trip near the same spot a year or two later. Photo credits to our friend Mike Bock.)

What Is So Rare As A Day In June

What Is So Rare As A Day In June

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o'errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For our couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,
And hark! How clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,
'Tis for the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave not wake,
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;
The soul partakes the season's youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.

-- James Russell Lowell