February Journal

It's a new day. This one is gray. Above me, milky clouds spill into pools of powder blue. Through my French doors, in my view across the canyon, morning light is lifting at the horizon. In the foreground, jays and crows flit and coast from the eucalyptus to the pines. We are in the path of changing weather: a storm is on its way, and after three days of luxurious sunshine with temperatures tipping 80 degrees, we're heading back to winter.

Two days ago, I took myself to the Goleta Slough. There, I watched mallards, widgeons and bufflehead, swimming and diving n the water. Egrets, knee deep in the runoff, stirred the sand with their feet. A long billed curlew -- a pretty little thing -- appeared young, fresh and ladylike, even with its enormous beak: a narrow arcing quill that extended in front of it almost the length of its entire body. The bird held the instrument high and paced through the shallow waters like royalty.

The slough is a wondrous place and close to the top on my list of new priorities. Lately, when in town, I've been visiting Santa Barbara's bird sanctuaries at least twice a week. I would have gone yesterday, and perhaps today too on this President's Day weekend, but Saturday, on my way home, my gray Toyota began acting up. It started making noises, much like the birds I'd been watching. I could hear chirps reverberating from the stone walls as I took the narrow curves on Alameda Padre Serra. They seemed to be emanating from a source beneath my car.

As I drove, the bird calls intensified, and when I descended down to the round-a-bout, and began to hit my breaks, the sound turned into a grinding screech. At this point, I told myself, "If you make it home, don't drive this car again this weekend. Take it in as soon as you can." And so, once home, 

I was housebound.

When my neighbor, Pat, heard of my demise, she offered to take me "anywhere." With me as her captive, she brainstormed the possibilities: "Michael's and Aaron Brothers are both having sales, do you need art supplies? Are you sure you wouldn't like to go? What about Costco -- they have great barbecued chicken?" Dear Pat will always drop everything in order to don her chauffeur's hat.

I, on the other hand, like to retreat, to lessen my activities, to pull in the reins and explore what I find underneath my plans. Kind of like those egrets stirring the sand beneath the water. In the wonderland that is Santa Barbara, I can find magic in a walk around the block. But, come to think of it, that could be said of almost anyplace if you slow down and nose your beak into the soft sand.

This brings me to Calle Corta, a steep hill a few blocks away from my house. The top of Calle Corta, delivers vistas of the ocean, the city and the descending coast. On this dishwater day, the colors of Santa Barbara's landscape will not pop. Today, there will be no panorama of Mediterranean blue. Instead, the ocean will sink into yellow-gray and practically disappear. Anacapa Island, one of the smallest of our eight Channel Islands, will not look a diamond shining at the edge of the horizon, but will instead, seem like a little chunk of coal, a blip rising from the yellow-tinged rim of the sea. Even so, I'm going to rouse my mental walking stick and delve into the adventure of this nearby hike.

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Hello you lovely folks. It's great to be back in touch. At this time, I"m still involved with my project, which I can see now, is going to continue through the end of the year. I have decided to stick with my blog for the time being. In order to accommodate my other work, I will post an entry every other month. For this I have chosen the date of the 15th. This should give me time to travel as well as to check in with you, say "Hello!" and post photos and words.

And oh, at the moment SB's getting fog. This wreaks havoc with my WiFi reception. Please forgive me if this causes any lag in my posting and answering your comments. Hopefully it won't :)


As always, my fond regards,   ~   Aneet


***My next post will be on May 15th <3 nbsp="">

Winter Sights

[[Before I enter a two-month break, that will bring me back here on March 15th, I want to share a few impressions that I found along the way this winter. For more information on the status of this blog, read my entry one post below, entitled, "Back from the Blue."]]

Surely I have thought of you this winter, when the season brought early rain, and with it, rainbows christening the hills, Cold air cut through the coastal haze to deliver skies and vistas of piercing clarity. At night, the lights from houses in the hills shone gold like hot crystal.

And then, there was Christmas. I spent it in L.A. with my Dear Daughter Erin. Her scene-stealing feline, Charles, the Abyssinian, who's enthralled by the sound of crinkling paper, staked his claim dead-center in the maze of our discards.

In Beverly Hills, Christmas displays were sparse this year, 

but still, we found a few that were dazzling.

And back here on the South Coast, during my breaks, when I took the time to loll, I caught sight of wintering birds. Small black and white ducks called bufflehead, showed up at the Goleta Slough; and in the park, I spotted cedar waxwings flitting and bobbing from branches of the toyon, while feasting on its red berries.

And finally, what would these past three months have been without the regular reward of chocolate?

                                   

Arrivederci you beautiful people. Until we meet again on 3/15/13 -- Peace, love and happiness, ~ Aneet

Back from the Blue

Beneath this wide-angle view of the Goleta Slough, I ponder . . .

What can I say about this blog? That it has been a remarkable accident? Perhaps experiment would be a better word. That I messed around in Blogspot, simply to explore what a blog entailed. I clicked on a couple of icons, and out of curiosity, downloaded a photo. After that, I added a bit of text, and before I knew it, there it was: my first post.

I suppose I could have deleted it, but obviously, that was not the case. Something about what had just happened felt right. Taking photos has been integrated into my life since the Sixties, when I shot mostly black and white, and had a darkroom in my service porch, where I developed film and made prints. Writing began in high school, when my first essays and poems were published in the school paper and the literary magazine.

But this blog . . . this blog.

Usually, I write something, or achieve something after creating a detailed plan and with a strong intention, and then I go about taking the steps (action) to realize my goals. As with all of us, some of my goals are realized, and others never find the light. It's so rare for me to create something without intention, just by bumping into it -- serendipity would be the fitting word -- but that has been the story with "Santa Barbara Sketches." And now, with 115 posts, and more than two years behind me, here I am, and here we are.

At the moment, I'm looking at two factors. One is that my illusive assignment, which I intend to tell you about one day (and hopefully sooner rather than later), is not complete. Not only is it not complete, but it has been expanded. This means that I will (in many ways, regretfully) need to continue with my break. This will bring me (us) to March 15th. The other factor is that this blog feels somewhat complete (at least at this juncture), and I feel disinclined to keep stretching it out into one endless string of posts. Doing that feels messy.

Like a poem or a canvas, there comes a time when a piece or a work is finished. I'm beginning to see this blog as a completed segment, like a book, perhaps the first installment in a series; or a journal of impressions: "Twenty-four Months in the Life of Anitra and Company." I hesitate to set this idea in stone, especially as I will need to be away again for these next three months, and my perception may be very different when I return.

On another note, a number of images have arisen over the past few months, that I'd like to share, but I will need some time to organize them. My plan is to publish some of those photos here, next Tuesday, January 22.

And so, my Dear Readers, now that I have briefly come up for air, like a porpoise from the shell-laden bottom of the sea, I need to say again, how often I think of you, and how, even when not writing this blog, you continue to enrich my life. I want to send many blessing your way, and the energy and bounty of a full and smiling heart.


Sincerely Yours,     ~    Anitra


***In summery: Before I head back to work for another three month stint, I will make another post next Tuesday, January 22.

Labor Day at LACMA

On Labor Day Weekend, I traveled to L.A. As usual, it was a stimulating change of pace from my serene Santa Barbara. One of the highlights of my trek was a visit to the wonderful, spacious, L.A. County Art Museum. It was a warm and fairly clear day in the city, and the museum offered graceful views of West Hollywood and the adjacent hills, as well as a clear vista of the illustrious Hollywood sign.

One of the first exhibits that I saw at the museum, was an interactive piece that I can only describe as long, yellow, rubber noodles. It was a playful piece that attracted and delighted the many children who were visiting that day (myself included.) The piece inspired me to use my camera's video application for the first time. I was able to capture only a brief moment of movement before my memory card ran out.

Accompanied by my daughter and a dear old friend, I saw the much-talked-about "giant rock", with its official title of "Levitated Mass". The rock sits on several acres of sand and appears like an isolated boulder in the middle of a desert. As you near the rock, you begin to see the concrete ramp, excavated and reinforced beneath it. One thing that was pervasive at this exhibit, as well as at LACMA in general, was the sense of delight and awe in the visitors viewing the art.

I found the instillation of two-hundred L.A. County lampposts, which were part of a larger exhibit entitled "Metropolis II", to be visually exciting through the eyes of the camera. I particularly liked the abstract mystery and film clip quality of this shot, which includes my daughter and my friend.

And last, but not least, the absolutely mesmerizing second half of "Metropolis II", which was an elaborate cityscape animated by toy cars and trolleys and trains. This too inspired me to use video.  It was difficult to pull myself away from this captivating piece by artist Chris Burden. His creation literally drove home the noise and head spinning chaos that lives in our century of freeways and automobiles.

To me, now, this cityscape in action seems to represent perfectly the hiatus that I am about to embark upon. It also makes me think of travel in general, and that beyond physical travel, there are many kinds of journeys; there are journeys of the heart and journeys of the mind. Now, as I begin my several months hiatus, my plan is to return on January 15, 2013, to make my next post.

I enjoy your company, Dear Readers, and have gotten to know many of you who regularly make delightful comments here. I can truly say that I will miss you and will, of course, think of you often. I want to wish you all a beautiful end of the year, and a rich and colorful Holiday Season flavored with joy and inspiration.

 And so, Dear Friends, arrivederci and many blessings until we meet again. My fond regards, ~  Anitra

The Flavor of Santa Barbara's Farmer's Market

As summer begins to wind down, Santa Barbara is finally receiving warm temperatures and bright sun. This arrival of our "real" summer, inspired me to take you on a visit to my favorite Farmer's Market. The Saturday morning Farmer's Market is held on lower Santa Barbara Street in a huge parking lot about half the size of a city block. Set up on asphalt under canopied displays, are over 50 local vendors from Santa Barbara, Ventura and even San Luis Obispo County. It is always a colorful and bustling scene.

It was a pleasure looking at the beautiful and perfect fruits of nature's bounty through the camera's lens. This Saturday, what caught my eye the most were the purples. Purple peppers (which I'd never seen before), and eggplant in dazzling shades of ultra-violet. A melon too captured my attention. It was larger than a bowling ball and had unusual markings of green with yellow dots. I reached out to touch it and asked the man behind the counter, "What is this?" He replied, "A watermelon of the "moon and stars" variety.

**Dear Valued Friends, I will be making one more post, on September 10th, before taking a fairly long break. Over the next few months I have some extensive travel plans that will likely keep me busy through the first of the year. As I've said before, having this blog and sharing special moments, images and thoughts with you is an utterly delightful and illuminating experience. It is surely true, that a joy shared is a joy made double.

 Hope to see you in September.

 My fond regards, ~ Anitra

A Slice of Santa Barbara, or: Time, The Ocean and Two Cloudy Days

Monday,

What can I say about this place? That I came up from L.A. thirty years ago for air and stayed? That I'd grown allergic (literally) to the L.A. smog? That Santa Barbara called me here, then swallowed me like a blotter absorbing ink? Quietly, painlessly, the years dissolved. When I drive through the city now, on my way to the library, or to buy a gift for a friend, I coast the familiar streets with their rock-lined hedges, their bougainvillea, oaks and palms . . . and I wonder . . . how it could be that all those days have washed away and left barely a ripple?

Today, under dense clouds, while most of the world is churning, and I can practically hear it groan, I've decided to stop at the beach and take a peek at what lies beyond the hedges and the rock walls. What color is the ocean today? My guess is that it's opal. And who waits on the sand? It's safe to say seagulls. But what I know deep down, is that there, beside the water, no matter how cloudy or sunny, at high tide or low, what I'm certain to find, hovering in the mist -- is some kind of magic.

Tuesday,

 Yesterday, when I took myself to the beach, after writing that a visit to the ocean guaranteed magic, I found myself on a cloud-shrouded shore at high tide. To my left, a cove lined with cottages, arced to the south, with only a thin strip of private beach untouched by the high tide.

To my right, beside the beach wall, sat a girl in a turquoise T-shirt, with long, blonde surfer-girl hair. Perfectly still, she stared toward the inaccessible north coast.

I stood on a small patch of beach in front of a storm drain. This was not what I'd had in mind when I predicted magic. I had pictured myself walking beside the water with my arms and legs swinging in sync with the rhythms of the surf. Instead, I perched on a pile of rocks and gazed at the agate ocean as it pushed and pulled and pulsed.

When I looked back toward the cove, I saw a tiny being on the sand: a squat toddler in bright blue shorts. He took solid steps and seemed amazed that he was upright as he planted each foot like a stake in the sand, fully at home in his world.

To my right, the girl at the beach wall, like a painting by Andrew Wyeth, continued to sit and stare. Behind me, stood a mass of concrete, etched and pock-marked with erosion. On closer inspection, I found within it and around it an eerie gallery of strangely stunning modern art.

    And that was the picture, nothing dazzling, nothing bright -- a quiet diffused scene.

Later in the day, while hiking in the hills, after the sun had finally broken through, I caught a glimpse of The Islands and was amazed to see that they had completely changed from what they were earlier in the day. In the morning, at the beach, The Islands had been fuzzy and charcoal gray; now, from out of nowhere, they bared the clearest typography I'd seen in years.

**Be cool all of you lovely people. I'll be posting again on August 20th. ~ Anitra