Tristan Gets His Bear Badge

Baby Tree

As far as this blog is concerned, I've been finding coherent thoughts hard to come by lately, and so I haven't posted much. Although I've posted nine times in February, which is almost my average monthly number of posts, and pretty good, I think, considering it's a short month.

Like you care about any of this.

I had wanted to post a photo of a tree I planted. I found it growing near the curb on my street, the result of a seed dropped by one of the large Chinese elms. At least, I think that's what it is--it's only about an inch tall. I carefully scooped it up out of the dirt, knowing that it wouldn't stand a chance where it was, and put it in a small pot that is now on the kitchen windowsill. I actually took the photo I wanted to post earlier in the week. However, now I can't find the camera. I suspect my wife has it, but probably, it's just where I left it.

Anyway, I want to take care of this tree, in part because I did so poorly with the tree Wall-E sent me. Yes, the robot from the Pixar film. The spruce seedling arrived in my mailbox in a cardboard tube, all ready for planting. I brought it inside the house, where it sat for a month.

If you've seen the movie Wall-E, you know what a travesty this is.

Anyway, I'll post the picture of the Chinese elm soon. Hopefully. If I don't kill it first.

Native Aroma

I walked to work today, about a 15-minute walk. The residential neighborhoods between where I live and the church office contain historic homes and tree-lined streets, making the walk a very pleasant one.

The best part about the walk came about halfway, when I passed a corner house that had no lawn. I turned on that corner, so I got an extra-long view of that house and its garden. In that garden, instead of a lawn, are a variety of native flowers and shrubs. Not only are they beautiful to look at, but they smell wonderful! Today I smelled what I think was sage, which reminded me of many hikes I've taken in the hills of southern California.

This picture, which I took last winter, shows some of the native plants (and wildlife!) of southern California. The plants smell even better than they look. (The boys, not so much.)

Hearing Colors

CNN.com had an article today about synesthesia, a condition in which people associate colors with sounds, words, numbers and letters. If interested, you can read the article here.

I've always seen different letters, numbers, and sounds with different colors. For example, the letter A is always yellow, the letter N is green. Sounds that are bright and sharp, like trumpets, are yellow or orange, while the sound of a bass or bassoon is dark brown. The number 11 (today's date) is pale yellow.

For a long time, I assumed that everyone associated numbers with colors. I remember once hearing a musician say he wanted his music to sound more "orange," and I knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't until recently that I learned that most people don't associate colors with sounds, letters, or numbers.

Some people, on the other hand, actually see the colors. Literally. For me, it's just an association in my mind. In the CNN article, a man recalls going to the symphony with his parents. He assumed that when the lights went down at the start of the concert, it was so everyone could see the colors better. I've never actually seen the colors like that--but if you were to ask me what color the sounds were, I'd know.

Watching the Rain...

... because after all, we don't see much of it.

Picture of Tristan, taken yesterday, Feb. 9.

Umbrella Shield

Ginger is away on a retreat for pastors' spouses this weekend. I knew I had to find something for the boys and I to do, or else they would start driving each other--and me--crazy.

Then I remembered we have annual passes to Disneyland. Actually, that's something I never forget. The kids are starting to get sick of the place, but as I keep reminding them, we only have three months until the passes expire. "Besides," I said, "it's a perfect day to visit Disneyland!"

That's when we heard the thunder crash.

"Don't worry," I said. "It'll clear up by the time we get there. Look! Already, the sky is lightening up to the southwest!"

So, off we went, to enjoy a day of beautiful California sunshine.

OK, so it did rain. But it was a light rain. Plus, there were periods of sun, too. And besides, we had our rain jackets and umbrellas. No problem!

Then we walked past the Grizzly River ride. We found a spot on the path that overlooks the spot where the rafts come down the chute, creating a big splash which lands on the path. Ding! You could hear the light bulbs coming on in their heads. Lots of water? An umbrella in my hand? The decision of what to do next was obvious:

We came home early.

It's Raining...

I've opened the window just a little bit, so that I can hear the rain. It's a very light rain, but it accumulates just enough as it runs down the roof, so that the drops make a steady drumbeat as they land on the ground.

How precious is the rain! Too scarce in this arid land, yet essential for life. It has been said that, in the 21st century, wars will be fought over water as they were, in the 20th century, over oil.

I remember reading, a long time ago, a story; we read it in my elementary school classroom. It was a story about a group of children living on Venus, where the sun only comes out once every seven years. How exciting it was when that one day came! (Who wrote that story? Ray Bradbury? I don't think so. Kurt Vonnegut? Perhaps. I don't remember.)

I feel like one of those children living in a land where just the opposite occurs, where the sun is relentless and the rainfall almost as rare. When it falls, I can't help but watch it, as the drops fall to the ground and soak into the dry soil, releasing scents that have been absent for months, or running down the sidewalks and into the streets.

JPL?

I couldn't resist. It is, as my sister pointed out to me, a very "random" picture. But the sight made me laugh.

"JPL Plumbing." The only "JPL" I know of is Jet Propulsion Laboratories, located in Pasadena. The van was on the Ventura Freeway, which would take it right to Pasadena. Visions of jet propelled toilets danced in my mind.

Need I say more?

A Tough, Mean, Dirty, Nasty Business

A news report out today quotes former vice president Dick Cheney as saying that protecting the country’s security is “a tough, mean, dirty, nasty business." He also said that those who threaten our nation's security "are evil people. And we’re not going to win this fight by turning the other cheek.”

How is a follower of Jesus supposed to respond to such comments? Would Jesus have us engage in a "tough, mean, dirty, nasty business" for the sake of national security? How would he have us treat "evil people?" (Would he even refer to them as "evil people?") Would Jesus change his mind today about "turning the other cheek?"

I feel that rambling on about this further would bring a level of politics that I don't want to introduce on this blog. So I won't. I just thought I'd share some of the thoughts that are on my mind today.

Boney Peak

In a movie, when the plot shifts from one scene to the next, there is often a shot of scenery inserted in to help the viewer make the transition. I need similar shots inserted into my own life. Sometimes they're small, as when I'm in the office, and I finish a project, and look out the window for a moment before transitioning to the next item on my to-do list. And sometimes they're a bit bigger, as when I spend a Saturday hiking.

It had been too long since my last hike. Fortunately, the weather was perfect as David and I arrived at the trailhead: Satwiwa/Sierra Vista, near Newbury Park. Numerous trails depart from here, some short, some long. In the picture below, the nice smooth path to the right slowly descends eight miles through Sycamore Canyon to the ocean. The trail that crosses the bridge to the left heads up 2,000 feet to Boney Mountain--a steep, rugged trail. Guess which one we chose?

The warm weather even had some of the trees fooled as to what season it is ... between 2,000 and 3,000 feet in elevation, it is likely that this area will see a frost when the weather cools back down, possibly as soon as the end of this week.

We passed by some intriguing rock formations on our way to the top:

Upon reaching the sumnmit, we had an amazing view of Sycamore Canyon (at the bottom), La Jolla Valley (the grassy area), and the Pacific Ocean, over which a small patch of fog was drifting. In the distance, we could see Anacapa and Santa Cruz Islands.