For many of you, spring probably feels a long way off. In California (at least near me), spring is getting a head start. The star magnolia is always one of my favorite early spring blooming trees. This one sits in the garden by Jack London’s cottage:
Are there any signs of spring where you live?
I’m dedicating today’s post to JAC. Sweet friend—I can’t sit with you as you go through this hard time, but think of this post as my way of bringing you flowers and light.
This past weekend, I visited Jack London State Historic Park in Glen Ellen, California. I wandered trails, gazed at ruins and tall trees, and visited London’s grave and cottage. I learned about London’s life and passion for farming (a surprise to me). Mostly, I recharged.
There’s something inspiring in hearing park rangers proudly describe London’s work ethic: 1,000 words a day, usually before noon. Then he headed over to entertain guests in his cottage’s adjoining space that held a living room, dining room, and kitchen.
One of London’s typewriters in his spacious office
A great oak, one London could have seen from his office windows
Notes on a clothesline in London’s sleeping porch
Where are some of your favorite places for renewal and inspiration?
In late December, when the steelhead trout were making their run upriver, a morning visitor surprised me. I heard a great splashing. At first, I thought someone was letting a very large dog swim in the river. Then I realized it was a creature much more at home in water.
A sea lion, far from the ocean
If Google—and my eyes and ears—can be trusted, the surprise visitor was a sea lion (not a seal). It and a companion stayed in the area for several weeks, and on some of my morning runs, I could hear barking from a long way off.
Stretching out in the water
I haven’t seen the sea lion for the last couple of weeks, but the times I spotted it swimming in the river filled me with joy and delight.
Have you encountered any unexpected visitors lately? I hope they brought you joy.
I’m not complaining about the weather, but we have had a longer than usual string of gray, dreary days. This week’s photo offers a pop of color to go along with all that gray.
I believe this is a feral Muscovy duck (though I’m open to other suggestions). Not wild, but feral. It’s a distinction birding experts make about Muscovy ducks.
I love the play of white and gray feathers and white and gray streaks in the rock, but mostly I love the bright red of the duck’s beak and eye area.
What’s your favorite pop of color when you need a break from gray days?
We’ve had much-needed rain here the last few days, and this afternoon is the first time blue skies have peeked through clouds. Many of you have come through more than a week of unbearable cold and/snow snow. I thought we could all use a bit of respite from winter today, and so I’m sharing reminders—photos from last summer I didn’t get to share with you then—that summer will be here in a few months:
A little flower known by many names: Clematis viorna, Northern Leatherflower, Vasevine
A Carolina lily, North Carolina’s state wildflower
Here’s an interesting article about telling the difference between a Carolina lily and its very similar cousin, the Turk’s cap lily. Just so you’re prepared if you see them this summer.
How do you find respite from winter when it turns dreary?
The Flourishing Tree 