WALK #44

I believe this sky’s shade of blue is (akin to) Egyptian Blue. If so, it’s considered to be the first synthetic pigment also known to the Romans as caeruleum. But after the end of the Roman empire, how it was crafted became lost until modern times when scientists came to recreate it. I’m glad we can still see this blue—it’s said the Egyptian god Amun chose this color for his skin so that he could fly invisibly across the sky. (I know these details because I wrote about them in my current novel-in-progress before this walk with its sightings. Reality often comes to mirror my writings aka “I write my reality.”)

When Beauty Turns Illusions Into Reality

The sky's color

is illusion

based

on the random

shifts of

light.

But when illusion

is lovely

someone

will want to

make it 

real

like the Egyptian

King of

Gods,

Amun, who turned

his skin

blue

to fly invisibly

against sunlit

sky.

WALK #43

It was just 21 days ago that I saw the orange flowers on the above bush. This morning, that same bush looked like these below. In nature, things can change so quickly.

Prodigal Water

Green to orange

to green:

nature

changes as swiftly

as waterfalls

plunge

toward oceans waiting

for returns

Home

WALK #42

 Color is a narrative. Today, color reminded that winter is near. 

"Color is a Narrative"

Blues dilute themselves

into gray:

soon

we shall wake

to winter's

brea(d)th

WALK #41

I smile whenever I see these palm trees because I met the owner years ago and he'd recounted the tale of how the palm trees were being disposed of by a prior owner. When he heard about it, he offered to take them. He replanted and I've been happy for the trees ever since for finding a receptive home. And now they provide California postcard-worthy views for passersby. Trees should never be cancelled!

Editing Joyce Kilmer

I see trees

lovely as

poems

WALK #40

The scent of old books and leather has been described as a combination of "vanilla flowers, almonds, juniper, birch tar, patchouli, black tea, tobacco..." That’s relevant to how I’ve seen “vellichor” described, e.g. Wiki defines it as “the pensive nostalgia and temporality of used bookstores." Whisky maker James Saxon actually tried to create a whisky whose aroma would evoke the scent of second-hand bookstores by blending mature whiskies with mixtures that had aged for many years in ex-Sherry butts. The resulting fragrance is described as indicating” hints of leather, polished furniture, and the crackling dustiness of decades-old pages—a palate stacked with sumptuous malty notes, tropical fruit, and Sherry character with a delicate but persistent peatiness.”

The above is all to say, when I saw this pile of compost during my walk, my steps quickened because, for whatever reason, I thought I might glean a hint of the vellichor from the musty and mixed earthy pile. Once I got closer, however, all my nose enjoyed was the sumptuous aroma of manure. This is why romanticism can irritate me. As the saying goes, Sh*t happens.

An Old Lesson

In researching shit

I discover

guano

topping a list

of most

nutritious 

manures. Yet again

I discover

how

I don't need

to know 

everything

that exists in

the vast

universe.

WALK #39

The shadows remind that, sometimes, lines need not be straight. Then I remember once complaining to Philip Lamantia that I can’t draw a straight line. He replied that I then should draw a curve.

Logic's Depression

How can lines

be straight

when

shadows blur edges

because our

world

has ceased operating

according to

Ethics

WALK #38

I don't know why the Wizard of Oz Tin Man came to Napa Valley. All I know is that he's camouflaged up to be in hiding.

Transparency

Right in front

of our

gaze

is the best

place to

hide.

WALK #37

Today I noticed grapevines' shadows, and was taken by their imagery. If I sectioned them into squares/rectangles, I could see pattern paintings and pattern drawings. In turn, that reminded me of certain artists who work with randomness to create their works. The patterns left by the shadows are "random"ly-made in the sense that they depend on forces not controlled by other elements—in this case they are based on nature, light, the sun's position, the shape of elements created for other reasons (i.e. vineyards) than to make shadow patterns, and so on. I then was reminded of one of my favorite artists, Theresa Chong, whose "random" influence for certain works included gravity. Once, she made a painting by using a wet-on-wet method whereby the background was a wet all-black field. Then she placed a row of white drops of paint on one edge. Then she stood the painting up so that the white drops would fall down in rows against the black background. In other words, "random" gravity was her collaborator on the work. As the white paint drops fell, they would elongate and sometimes fracture in unexpected ways. What was interesting is that the final effect could evoke Asian scroll writing as well as music (she is a cellist as well). She renamed one of the paintings in this series "Black Lightning" (3rd and 4th images) because it ended up being the cover image for my first book, BLACK LIGHTNING (1998). It's interesting how the mind, too, meanders during walks. Such lovely memories and thoughts were conjured up by today's walk—I'm grateful.

Recognition

Nature offers patterns

for your

recognition

if you choose

to see

them

WALK #36

 Everywhere I walk, there are signs around me... beyond what's posted as signs.

Signs

They hang on

posts, announcing

information—

if only truths

were so

easily

discovered, transparent in

what they

reveal,

surrounded by pink

and white

flowers, 

waving palm trees

and ripening

grapes—

their beauty signifying

Here is

Safety

like when strangers

smile to

indicate

We mean no

harm to

you.

WALK #35

We once hosted bees on the mountain, in beehives we painted the colors of Colombia’s flag for our son—as a young teen, he’d looked so cute in his white beekeeper outfit. We loved the bees who were generous with honey and recognized us. This is all to say, today’s walk provided an emotional sighting.

Kapwa

a beehive evokes

unexpected memories

connected

by the sweet

honey of

love--

the bees never

stung because

we

saw ourselves in

them, and

they

saw themselves in

us through

Kapwa

WALK #34

 Blather. Nothing like politicking to destroy a scenic landscape.

How to Destroy Something

Pay someone to

talk about

it

WALK #33

Spiders have been out of favor in our household. And with the cats as my army, they don't often survive. We don't like spiders because we thought they nip at the soft ears of our dogs. Still, when I stumbled across their gifts of lace woven atop bushes, I confess to regret that I have had to be cruel to them. But their beautiful gifts made me google them today, and I learned that we've been wrong: spiders are not or are rarely dangerous inside homes. This is yet another affirmation of how humans are this planet's most dangerous species--in part because we are careless about our thoughts. Apologies to these arachnids. 

I Thought I Appreciated Beauty

When I discover

who made

white

silk 

lace handkerchiefs

for my garden's

lush 

green bushes,

my assumptions shift--

if my enemies

are creating

beauty,

how have they 

become my 

enemies?

What is this

world? How

should

I live in

this world?

How

have I become?

Who am

I?

WALK #32

Since I began this walking project, this is the first time I’ve walked in rain in what is the first for the rainy season. It’s also a moment of dissonance, coming so swiftly after recent heat waves. All due to Typhoon Merbok. Earth is shifting uneasily on its axis. This morning, I woke with the thought, Suddenly, happiness can’t be trusted. I know I’m not the only one on the planet today conversing with the skies.

A Rosy Outlook

Raise eyes toward

a sky

pregnant

with rain. Forgive

its gloomy

countenance.

It is difficult

to trust

happiness

but the roses

soon will

drink.

WALK #31

The “long road” doesn’t exist when the road is bordered by vineyards. The paths between vines are so pleasurable that they often end too soon. If running is to move, then vineyards reveal walking is to be savored. 

Vineyard Walks

No "long road"

exists amidst

vineyards—

vineyards make you

want to

linger

WALK #30

I've been going meta in the past week with my walks, by which I mean I've been walking to Dave Brubeck Quartet's "I'd Walk A Country Mile" (which you can also enjoy HERE). I just put that on a loop for an hour and go, all pleased with moiself. And on today's country mile, please enjoy the white roses and other white blooms I can't identify!

"I'd Walk A Country Mile"

Miles of white

roses flow

effortlessly

when humming to

Dave Brubeck

Quartet!

WALK #29

 I saw the found poem from a distance and approached it:

THE ORANGE TRAILER

so much depends

upon

an orange

trailer

glazed with

rust

parked by ripening

vines

I called the above poem a "found poem" because it was instigated by the iconic poem "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams:

But because my above poem is not a hay(na)ku, I also penned this variation:

At Harvest

orange trailers park

by ripening

vines—

service at its

best always

anticipates

WALK #28

Hah. I finally got to walk railroad tracks. And after all the movies incorporating such a scene, I learn that the experience is overrated. The distance between the rail ties is not comfortable, at least for me. Anyway, don't believe everything in the movies. And haven't we already learned anyway that the best walks are directly on earth? Ground ourselves!

The Path as Destination

Railroad 

tracks never

lead to nowhere