taking a walk on the wild side

i have to admit it...despite being a country gal i absolutely love this city. it plays misty for me and then some.

this morning after a couple of hours hard graft - writing, not swinging a pick - i did myself a favour, went out on Geary Street and hopped on a bus fully intending to head for Golden Gate Park and some research in the Botanic Garden there.

but [yet again quoting John Lennon] "life is what happens while you're making other plans". it did that today and for this i am grateful.

instead of turning south a few blocks at the end of my bus ride i followed a windfall path down the street heading west and finished up at Point Lobos [with a pocket full of leaves]. 

i found a ruin that rivals Delphi... the remains of the Sutro Baths. i lingered a while

found floating feathers

and then instead of turning south i went purposefully north

trees making drawings against the sky

underfoot a stone, polished by many passers

looked very much like Pounamu

greener than the picture shows

onward along the clifftops through fields of flowers where it's warm and sheltered

then suddenly exposed again and slapped by a cold damp wind

i find a lost heart

and a Latvian wild strawberry [Fragaria vesca] 

growing by the sidewalk above China Beach

at Baker Beach [still further north] i find a perfect pocketstone. dark greenblack and smoothly polished. the sort of stone that likes to roll in your hand as you think about other things

such as imagining i see the footprints of a special dog i used to know

Baker was one of his favourite beaches

 wandering on up the hill...following the wind to the Golden Gate bridge

i begin to hear a familiar sound

haven't even had a gin and i'm hearing a tenor saxophone

sure enough, as i walk around the corner of a ruined building up on the battery

there they are

using the perfect acoustics provided by that concrete shell

two musicians jamming

west coast impro and it's good, very good

[thinks, my friend John Kelley would love this] 

it's another icing on the cupcake moment. i seem to be having a lot of those lately. 

after a while they break for a breather. we talk and swap names and sax stories

they are Colin Gleason [tenor saxman] and his friend Dave [i hope i got the guitar player's name right, forgive me if i mucked up...it's easier if it's written on a piece of paper when age hath wearied and the years condemned]

 

Colin and i also compare tattoos

and i take a few photos

would have been better if the tree hadn't been growing out of Colin...but it's not a good place to step backward while framing a shot...bit of a drop on most sides

and the longest one would leave one very wet indeed

and then a few more photos including several at arms length of the three of us [except i later do some cutting and pasting cos all except one of me has a moonface with a double chin. ew. ]

thank goodness for Raybans - much cooler than coverstick for hiding wrinklies

then they played some more

and i sat and listened

and drew in my notebook with notes on colours to slosh on later from the small paintbox

[guess who forgot to pack a water bottle]

there's THAT bridge again

nine hours and nineteen one-foot-at-a-time kilometres after i stepped out of the Kabuki this morning i toddle back into my room

ready for a serious soaking bath

and a quiet tea ceremony

with a small treasure found here in San Francisco

one that will live in the travel bag and remind me 

every time i have tea on the track

of a place that still makes me feel seventeen years old