We are off on an adventure in SoCal: yurt camping, visiting migrating butterflies, hiking, a trip to the Purl Warehouse, the Getty, Disney Hall, and best of all, according to one little guy: Gaga and Grampie's house.

Back next week.

Packing for our trip (and trying to finish  these mittens-- it's going to be cold down in the mountains!), but I loved this post. I think Rome is the ultimate Wabi Sabi city--everything is there, 6000 year old temple to modern museum, all next to each other, and, for the most part, open to touch to enter, to experience. Italians paint their houses very very bright colors: because the paint job is expected to last 15-20 ears-- they look for something that will fade -- and peel--  well.
















I think Wabi Sabi also appeals to me because there is an inherent requirement to "be present" to enjoy the beauty that is points to. Living with a toddler is very very wabi sabi.

Last week, to get away from the heat-- although really, it was hot everywhere-- we drove down to Pescadero for the first time. It is like something out of a novel, a fantasy of California. I was going to say going back in time, but it is really just unique, especially the San Gregorio Country Store-- loved the selections, the eavesdropping, and the fact that you could do it all with a drink in hand.




We stopped at Pebble Beach on the way down. It was really incredible... memories of waves etched (semi) permanently into the side of the land. The technical name is tafoni.

These are just a few of the horseshoe crabs that were on the beach the other morning-- dead.

The first time  I saw a horseshoe crab I must have been about 7. It was in the water, I thought it was a rock until I stepped on it, and it moved.  We never saw them washed up like this. It's not a molt-- not a new moon,  and there weren't cracks on the front of the shells  (where the crab would have crawled out). They died. I don't know if this is because of the oil spill, or simply the storm the other night, or the water being too hot, or everything changing all at once, all together.

They made me think of dead Greek warriors,  and Sutton Hoo helmets:




I remember one summer here, I must have been around 6 or 7, my father began reading the Odyssey to me. Perhaps he was inspired by the horseshoe crabs.
Maybe if J had been older we might have play-fought with these, then, like those heroes of old. Instead I "drew" a "jellyfish" in the sand around the "crab fishies" trying to explain to him what had happened to these old men of the sea, even though I  don't really know.

We're on Cape Cod, and as always I am  so struck by how different the colors are here from  San Francisco. Mostly it's yellow vs grey, but looking at these photos I realized that some of the greens are really tonally different. They have a blue-ness that I don't recognize out west. I am not sure, quite, how to describe it.

J's color palette seems to have changed too, this is a collaboration between the two of us, but he painted the yellow and some (most) of the violet:



Ironically I think these are cooler colors than he usually picks.

I went to my son's godmother's wedding,  in Seattle (solo). I flew to Boston, and then drove toe the Cape to see my parents (with my son and husband), see the son, lie on the beach.

Some conclusions:
the Kindle (a gift) is great for travel
so is knitting
Seattle has better weather than San Francisco
The Seattle Public Library may be gorgeous, but  I hate it. I really think it's a failure of big-D Design. And I think the San Francisco civic engagement/design efforts are bar none.
My son is a horrible traveller. I have been traveling since I was 6 weeks old, have been to every continent except Antarctica, and have lived in 4 countries, but  I think he might get it from me. I never realized what a homebody I was! (this means I'm very sad to miss the Street Food Festival... run, don't walk if you are in SF!)

From SouleMama: {this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.