Today was one of those incredibly beautiful winter days that make living in Northern California so wondrous. The sky was dazzlingly clear and vibrant with temperatures in the low 60s. On my way home from the studio I drove out Vinegar Ridge, hoping to catch a colorful sunset.
Reaching the crest I could see that the fog was already rolling in, and I started to think about turning back and heading home. I decided to wait a bit and see what would happen.
The sun sank lower and the fog washed up against the cliffs below me. Just like the tide, the fog ebbed and flowed, washing in and out.  The last rays of sunlight lit the fog with surprisingly vibrant colors.  Eventually the colors faded to grey.

  

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The desk in my studio was given to me by a neighbor who was moving and didn't have space for it in her new home.  It was made in England by a great uncle of hers in the late 1860s. Made of oak, it has a slant front and cubby holes for days.  The top is not terribly deep but it is well suited for displaying antique items, pottery, brics and bracs and other curiosities.

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I decided to take advantage of the clearing weather and drive down Vinegar Ridge and out to the Coast. The road begins fairly normally at first as it winds through redwood forests and climbs the grades towards the Sonoma Coast. It rapidly turns patchy as it weaves through the high elevation grasslands of the countryside. The sunlight was dazzling as it danced through the remaining clouds from the storms.

Reaching the top of the ridge brings you into the open grasslands, unbroken for miles by any fences or buildings. Herds of cattle and sheep are accustomed to sharing their pasture with the occasional passing car. Unafraid and mildly curious at first, they soon lose interest and return to their grazing.       

The coast soon comes into view in a dazzling display of blue. 

I climb down through the mist.
At the bottom of the trail
I reach my journeys end.
A sheltered little pond
where the mountains meet the sea.

To me, this little pond is one of the most beautiful places in the world.

What makes this place so beautiful is what you don't see...
a nuclear power plant.

About 45 years ago, this place was almost destroyed when PGE (a huge gas and electric monopoly) tried to build the first nuclear power plant in the US on this spot. PGE managed to acquire the promontory from a local rancher and began construction of the power plant.

Raping the earth, they stripped the land bare and dug an enormous hole 120 feet deep to house the nuclear reactor. Unbelievebly, the power plant was being built on top of the San Andreas earthquake fault. In 1906 an earthquake on this same fault destroyed San Francisco, just 60 miles to the South. Local citizens began an uprising and a huge battle began. PGE vowed they would not be stopped.

Fortunately the project was able to be stopped, and soon the healing could begin. The huge hole was left and soon filled with fresh water from natural springs. Plants and wildlife returned and settled back in. It is now a scene of intense bird activity.

Today fishing boats come and go in the harbor, and seals, sea lions and otters breed and raise their young. Egrets, pelicans, geese and ducks fill the air. The highest concentrations of rare bird sitings in our area are here in Bodega Bay.

Migrating whales can be seen as they swim off shore on their yearly migration south to Mexico.

Incidently, Alfred Hitchcock filmed the movie "The Birds" here during the PGE conflict.

What a delight (albeit short-lived) to have sunlight streaming into my bedroom this morning! You see, the winter rains arrived in CA with full force last night. Accompanied by strong winds, the string of storms delivered wet weather, heavy hail and torrential downpours. I was also blessed with that rarity of all rarities, thunder and lightening! I rarely get the opportunity to experience it here, and when it arrives it is rather thrilling.


Here on the top of Vinegar Ridge, I am exposed to all the elements. I live in a remodeled barn with a tin roof. I could see the lightning flashing over head through the skylights, lighting up the inside of this old barn as if it were broad daylight, followed almost immediately by rolling waves of thunder.


Shaking the barn like a toy, the thunder blasted over head and echoed into the valley below. Loose boards rattled as the wind howled through cracks underneath the barn. Heavy rain hammered down onto the tin roof overhead, alternating with the skittering of hail. It was loud and boisterous and made any thoughts of sleep completely out of the question.

Unaffected by the chaos outside, Kwan Yin radiates with serene compassion.

a presentation of peace... a gesture of goodwill

The inclement weather is keeping me indoors, so I am posting photos taken in my bedroom. The lighting is gentle and allows great flexibility in experimenting with exposure, depth of field and such. I must say that I am a great believer in trial and error..

Where to start?

How to start?

As Pema Chodron once wrote...

"start where you are."

So.... here I am.