Fall in Monterey

I know I know... Californians don't really know what it is like to experience the seasons. East Coasters laugh in our faces when we say, "Fall is here!" Or, "It's going to be a cold winter!" But we do experience the seasons in our own special California way.

Fall is here in Monterey. You can tell. The gophers in the lawn are risking the danger of little children's stomping feet to come out of the cooling ground and bask in the sunshine. The birds are busy finding a place to nest for the winter that is approaching. Even the bees have grown sluggish in their efforts to terrorize the school children during their lunch hour. The trees that are not evergreens are turning an odd shade of, what is that, red? Orange? Every so often, as I am driving through a forest of pine trees, a brilliant flash of color will catch my eye and I discover a small maple tree, valiantly blooming all of the colors in the red spector. It is as if that little tree is defying the rules of Monterey by being different than all of tall cyprus trees that surround it.

The weather has a peculiar fall feel to it. Clear blue skies will give away to creeping fog over the prairie behind our buildings. It comes upon us as a surprise. One moment we are complaining of heat, wondering who turned on the heater, and the next we are trying to find each other in the soupy fog that has come from nowhere. When clouds do gather in the sky, it is a good chance that you will get a cleansing rain. It is oddly deceptive though. I wake up to raindrops and put on my California version of heavy weather gear... turtleneck sweater, stockings, jeans, boots, and a scarf, only to step outside to mild temperatures. It is almost as if a tropical rain has fallen on our sleepy little coastal town.

I was driving through the prairie that sits behind our buildings yesterday and saw the oddest looking birds forraging in the fields. Upon closer inspection, I concluded that they were turkeys. Funny. I've never actually SEEN a live turkey in the wild before. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever seen a LIVE turkey anywhere. I was pretty sure they existed because I was cooking and eating on every Thanksgiving, but still... to see them blissfully wandering free in the fields was a treat. I wonder if they appreciate their freedom? I wonder if they know it is turkey-hunting season around here? Shhh... I won't tell them if you won't.

Of course, one cannot mention Fall in Monterey without discussing the colds and flus that abound. I blame it on the wacky weather patterns. Either I am dressed too warmly or not warmly enough. The drastic change in temperature between my office (overheated) and the outdoors (crisp and cool) makes for a delightful breeding ground for germs. That, and the gift of sharing that my little school children seem to have mastered. A jar of santitized wipes sits on my desk and I have become obsessed with wiping down every touched surface in an effort to kill the germs that have targeted me for invasion. It is an on-going battle.

Fall is here in Monterey. It is evident. Pumpkins sit on my desk, waiting to be carved. Discussions have turned to Thanksgiving Dinner and who is going where and what should we cook this year? Last night, it was decided that we would be non-traditional in our house. Rack of Lamb is the dinner we have selected. I have a feeling that the spirit of Fall will take over and turkey will win again. As it does every year.

All in all, despite the mildness of our California seasons, it is evident that Fall has come to Monterey. And I, for one, am going to enjoy every minute of it!

My Secret Garden

We are beginning a sustainable garden at Peninsula Adventist School (www.peninsulaadventist.org). The stakes have been put down, the boxes are in place (why do they look like coffins?) and vines, plants, and even a lemon tree is waiting to be planted. I am excited about this garden.... it promises to be a place where I can dig in the dirt, watch things grow, harvest my own tomatoes, and enjoy the fruits of my labor.

And to think, I don't even like tomatoes.

Maybe I'll eat my own... we'll see.

A Little Bird

A little yellow bird flew in my door today. He skitted about, looking for a place to land. I am not sure which one of us was more startled to see the other. But curiosity overcame fear and he flew right to the windowsill above my desk. He found a place to sit and sing for a spell. Then, as quickly as he darted in, he dashed out.

He knew where the door was all the time.

The View Is Worth It

We went for a hike Friday afternoon with nine kids. A nice trail through Pt. Lobos state park, completely equipped with dust, fallen trees, and oh yes... poison oak. Between admonishing the kids not to touch ANYTHING and dealing with the dusty trail - we discovered a beautiful way to spend a day in the woods. At the top of the trail, where you can go left or right, we chose the left. It took us down a trail with steep steps that wrecked havoc on old bones. At the very end of the trail, there were wooden steps that were even steeper, but at the bottom? Ahhh, what lay at the bottom of those steps made the risk and the pain and the sweat worthwhile. There before us was a beautiful private beach... the water so clear you could see the fish swimming on the floor of the ocean. A blue heron was standing on a kelp bed, looking for all the world like he was St. Peter trying to walk on water. We played tag with the waves (why do I always lose that game?) and enjoyed the warmth of the autumn sun and the beauty of the Big Sur curves to the south. Soon, it was time to head back up those precarious steps, back up the hill, back over the dusty trail, through the poison oak (or is it ivy? I can never tell) and back to civilization.

As we passed a couple huffing and puffing up the trail, I said to them, "the view is worth it."

And I meant it....

Facinating Nature

There are two little birds outside my office window. Both are fighting for the rights to torture the cricket that is limping about in circles between them. Each bird is intent on getting the cricket, but their attention is divided between the task at hand and keeping an eye out for the competition. Soon, the cricket is forgotten as they begin their squabble over who has the right of way. The cricket hops into the bushes to nurse his wounds or to die, but the birds have been distracted enough to lose sight of what it is they were there for in the first place. As they continue to squawk at each other, feathers ruffled, here comes the neighbor's cat... intent with a single purpose - no distractions allowed. He is on a mission to catch his morning snack. Should it be the sparrow or the larger mocking bird? At the last minute, both birds stop their fussing long enough to see the danger that is lurking behind the tree. Damn that tail, it gave him away. The only salvation for the birds is their ability to fly. And the cricket is dead, the birds are still hungry, and the cat, well - the cat has decided to take advantage of the morning sun and has stopped to clean himself.