Friday 9 May 2014

Sigh

"Leaving San Francisco is like saying goodbye to an old sweetheart. You want to linger as long as possible."

- Walter Cronkite



once again I'm faced with leaving this beloved place, though I only landed here yesterday lunchtime and feel that I've hardly arrived
cherry blossoms abound
dogwoods
and roses. 
Though it is peony season I've only found them at second hand
I've roamed my traditional 490 acre territory (I'll explain that when I'm not typing with on finger on the batfone) 

Reading telegraph pole poetry with my fingers
it's written in Braille after all

Checked that things are as they should be
The tailors dummy is still in the window on Columbus 
the only addition at some point in the last 38 years has been this 
a British style guide dated 1987
A favourite tree doing very nicely thank you
and in Sterling park on Russian Hill, the heart I left there last year
still in place on the tree
The gorgeous gardens on the Filbert steps are still buzzing with bumblebees
Up on T hill
the store that I daydream about occupying as a studio for a while
is changing hands yet again. It has fabulous views of the Bay and Coit tower and across to Russian Hill

I pick up some saxophone reeds at Union Music
and some carving tools at the Japanese hardware store
and then follow my nose into Susan Vanasco-Howell's tiny but luscious bead store at 1900A Fillmore, emerging twenty minutes later with a string of blue beads, a red rose (given to me by said Susan) and the discovery that Susan and I have birthdays on consecutive days and agree on a lot of things
and that was only the tip of the iceberg of what I did in San Francisco.
I even bumped into my auntie. Well, not her physical self as we lost her two years ago, but evidence that she is around. I was thinking about her and how she loved this city too and then I glanced at my feet and saw this sign
it was her stock response whenever any one of us told her we loved her (our standard sign off on the telephone).

There she was. Large as life. 

now it's pumpkin time and I have to be at the airport early tomorrow 
so I shall consign myself to bed and the lullaby of the foghorns

leaving y'all in the hands of one of the local saints

See...there is truly a saint for every occasion. And I'm gonna be missing Saint Frank. 

9 comments:

  1. Bat phone blogging isn't all it's cracked up to be. The images go off and party in the next room while you're distracted by a passing butterfly. I shall attempt to fix that in the next few days assuming a kind friend allows me access to more sophisticated equipment !

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wonderful images, love the tailors dummy. It must be so reassuring to see these things still there in this place you love-especially the stitched heart on the tree. How warming to see your auntie's words. There's no such thing as a coincidence I always say. The lullaby of the foghorns- what a soothing description.
    Thank you for a special post.

    Claudia

    ReplyDelete
  3. It is such a wonderful city! Maybe it comes from being a CA native and visiting much in my life, but it is one of only a few that I truly love. You captured many delightful images in such a short visit and thanks for sharing them.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wonderful images of a very special place. I especially love that the heart you placed on the tree last year is still there! That's the kind of thing that restores one's faith in humanity.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Ah San Francisco you left your heart there too!

    ReplyDelete
  6. i think that studio/storefront has your name on it...of course there's always the financing...sigh. i fall a little in love with st f everytime you take me walking.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Love it too, thank you for the snippets, I doubt I will ever get back.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Beautiful pictures. My daughter lived in the marina district for awhile after finishing college. She loved the city, and I can envision her haunting your favorite places. Enjoy your time on Whidby Island!

    ReplyDelete
  9. the heart in thr tree!
    i love you more

    ReplyDelete