Summer B

The first week of summer brought with it sunny skies and temperatures in the mid-seventies -- weather worthy of Santa Barbara's reputation. But the weeks and months before and since have been dominated by fog. Our Summer Solstice Parade (see June 2011), along with high school and college graduations, and just the influx of seasonal tourists doubled our population, flooding our streets and turning serene SB into a teeming bumper to bumper hub. This week, finally, we've received full sunny days, and yesterday, the beach was packed with sunworshipers.

Late May and early June brought our Jacaranda trees into bloom. This year's bounty appeared fuller and more prolific than I can remember.  Throughout the city our tree-lined streets were clad in fluffy clouds of lavender. They lingered for weeks, with blossoms sprinkling sidewalks, lawns and windshields like purple confetti announcing summer's approach.

Last week, I bought a gift for a friend at one of my favorite shops: Lewis and Clark in La Arcada Plaza. La Arcada is a courtyard with Old World Spanish architecture. It flanks our art museum, and is home to restaurants, galleries, fountains and boutiques (the window washer in the foreground wearing all white, is a fixture of La Arcada. A statue sculpted entirely of bronze.)

On my way back to the parking lot, I glanced toward our courthouse -- the heart of our downtown -- the way I always do whenever I'm in its presence. I took in its tile roof, its graceful arch, its tall clock tower that looks out to a 360 degree view of the city, and felt a certain awe, even after all these years. The interior and the exterior of Santa Barbara's courthouse are equal to some of the loveliest buildings in Italy or Spain. And as I stopped to snap a couple of photos, the clock began to chime. It resounded through all twelve numbers of the hour like a validation, a booming voice bellowing, "You're here, Anitra, you're here, at this median hour, in perfect timing. I salute you with both hands straight up. Have a beautiful day."

Welcome, welcome lovely readers; it's good to be back. I look forward to returning two months from now,  on the 15th of September. Until then, cool breezes and happy days to you.

Today, my mermories are a drumbeat

Pacing the hills, ocean in view, scent of summer in the air.

Coppertone suntan lotion wafting on breeze, impossible way up here so far from everyone. Must be a memory drifting in from my youth. Summers spent at the beach on the California coast. A high school thespian, performing plays and modern dance. Dreaming of modeling and acting. Pulsing with adolescent vitality. A fireball.

Not knowing how to get where I had to go, only that "no" could never be an option.

Loving the precious last days of youth -- the safety of high school, the freedom to be silly. And yet, waiting . . . breathless for that moment when I would fly from my secure cage and follow every wing-flap due north. The magnet of Hollywood pulling . . . calling . . ..

 


** There is more, a long string of Santa Barbara images. See second post below

Ordinary Day

The scent of summer
lifting from the still moist soil of spring
Santa Barbara blooming, glistening.
Every day the interplay of fog and sun.

********************************************   

How delightful it is to be back here in this welcoming arena -- this forum of friends 

-- the open channel where I take the images that have greeted me over the past two months, strain them through the filter of my perception, fashion them 

into form . . . and deliver them to you. 

 With gratitude, I welcome you into my blue world by the sea. This month, I have made two posts, both prompted by the phrase, "the scent of summer." They are fairly free-form, from the white Matilija poppy, to cactus flowers blooming in my garden, to a bucked-tooth gopher (in need of a good dental hygienist), who was plump, large and completely indifferent to my presence. Even when I stood in front of him and spoke, he looked at me, but didn't flinch, just continued 

with his plight of digging and gnawing.

The Princess Cruise Line that has been showing up from time to time in our harbor: a stunning sight, surprising in its breadth; cedar waxwings clustered on bare branches; a hooded oriole; an artist capturing the slough in oils and even a white cat staring through her green window are a few of my offerings today.  What's missing is the birdsong, which you will have to imagine, or perhaps you could go for a walk in your own neighborhood and hear some similar music.

On another note, my work continues and is going well. Posting every two months now, feels just right. It's wonderful to see you :) I will return on the 15th of July.

Bountiful wishes and happy summer solstice my valued readers and friends,  ~    Anitra

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.

...............................................................................................................................

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