Indian Summer at Edgewood (No. 1): Creekside

I've read that the term Indian Summer had to do with the land of India, but Wikipedia says it's a Native American reference. 


Wikipedia's not always right. So everybody can decide on their own, or read something academic and let me know, eh?


I do know that Indian Summer is on full display right now in Edgewood Park, a county park nature reserve five minutes (driving) from Cañada College
where I take classes.


The Ohlone tribe were the first people who lived and gathered food in this area. If I slide down the bank of this creek into it's time passage, I might meet up with a few Ohlone. Could have still been a few fish down in this creek 300 years ago, 

Indian Summer at Edgewood

Part 2:  Oak Apples

Part 3: Rose Hips

Trick or Treaters Come Early This Year (Green Humor)

To get the Whole Picture

Please CLICK ON THE ILLUSTRATION above 

I'm a big fan of the biodegradable approach to Halloween decorating. I've already put out several pumpkins, big and small in the garden. I've tried growing them myself, but I don't have the light, heat, soil or something* to get them going. The little kids who walk past with their parents, by the way, don't realize that they aren't growing out there. They have been happily checking out my pumpkin garden for the last couple of weeks.


Funny though, the mini pumpkins started disappearing. Were they just walkin' off?


Turns out they weren't. Somebody's been getting their trick or treating in early this year. 


Whatever's leftover after the kids and the raccoons move on, I'll dig the reminder down into my adobe soil. It'll help out with the salvia blooms next spring.

. . .

* Tired of adding compost, redwood soil amendment, and gypsum to my adobe soil, I finally decided to figure out what likes to grow there. Salvia, is one good answer.

When does a daughter become an adult?

When my daughter got her driver's license, I didn't feel like she was an adult. I just felt nervous.

When she turned twenty one, I didn't feel like she was an adult. I just figured she could buy booze without being sneaky.

But today my daughter ran 13.1 miles in the Nike Women's Half Marathon, which she started training for last April. You have to decide to do that yourself, and stick to it on your own. 


Now, I know, my daughter is an adult.

E & K Family Book Review: Surgeon, Turned Musician, Turned Private I: A Free Man of Color, By Barbara Hambly

E & K Family Book Review: Surgeon, Turned Musician, Turned Private I: A Free Man of Color, By Barbara Hambly

Steve Jobs: Heroes and Heroines

I took the pedestrian time portal over to the downtown Palo Alto Apple Store yesterday. It's a nice walk past the library and park fields on a long path of trees that runs alongside the Caltrain railroad track.  At the end of the path, I cross San Francisquito Creek a time portal that has occasionally taken me back to visit with a local Ohlone tribe, back before 1769 when the Spaniards arrived. 


Yesterday, however, I continued past the temptation to drop back a few centuries and gather fall berries with a few of my early California sisters, and headed out along Alma Street on the path to more recent times.  


No matter what time of day I've walked past, since Steve Jobs death, there's been a crowd of people gathered at the window of the downtown apple store, writing postits, dropping off flowers, taking photos, or simply reading the notes that others have left. I found at least six different languages yesterday, two of whose origin I couldn't even make a guess.


We all need heroes and heroines so that we can go forth with a touch more heroism ourselves.

Digital Quilting:Global Warming, The Norwegian Block

The first block in my Digital Global Warming Quilt.


This is a surprisingly challenging quilt to design.


Who ARE these Americans who are denying Global Warming? Here's one article that gave me some ideas. "Why Americans Deny are in Denial".

Quilting Mission Style: San Juan Bautista

Click on the illustration above for improved time portal access

My friend Marilyn and I took a field trip back through time last Friday, and drove down to Mission San Juan Bautista. The California missions are garden spots filled with architectural charm, but in their heyday they spelled the destruction of culture for native people, not to mention being decidely unhealthy environments. It's tempting when visiting the California missions to see what turns up in the way of time portals. After all this may be our big chance to do a little historical rewriting.

Or maybe we can pretend these are just pretty buildings with lovely gardens?


Born here or not, we're Californians. Our history includes all the people who passed through this mission. Every one of those folks are our ancestors. Like a mission-style quilt, we're all pieced together  whether  our great grandma came from Orio Spain, Ohio, or an Ohlone village.