Nothing But Blue Skies
This crazy sun keeps me guessing. I’ve lived here now full-time for ten months and I am still amazed when I go to different parts of my property how the sun is in places where I don’t expect it. Part of that is about me and my orienteering capabilities while on my property and part of it is about the full range of motion that the sun (I guess I should say the Earth on its axis) moves from season to season. While I will cop to some orienteering lapse as well as some laziness in getting out and about on my vast 2.5 acre grounds, I think most of this is the work of an overactive axial orbit combined with a dulling of my seasonality sense given the continuously beautiful weather out here San Diego way.
It’s the last Thursday in November for Christ’s sake and while I’ve bothered to put on a long sleeved t-shirt under my flannel shirt and I’m wearing jeans, I have no sweater, no jacket, no socks and have chosen to sit in the shade. I am down near the games area, having dragged two Gravipod nylon bags each with 50 pounds of sand in them down here to place at the base of my two covered umbrellas, which each already had a Gravipod sandbag on their base. This is the San Diego version of battening down the hatches for the hard winter ahead.
I bought the added Gravipod bags (a wonderful niche invention, I must say) at Handy Brad’s suggestion and he picked up the sand to fill them for me. He texted me this morning to say he forgot to take them down to the games area and would swing by to do so. I immediately texted back that he should do no such thing as it was a family holiday. I then saw the Gravipods sitting there already filled with their sandbags. Handy Brad will be back here tomorrow morning along with carpenter helpers Dave and Rich (different Rich) and two day laborers, Victor and Pablo. Handy Brad likes Victor because he’s a Dreamer who speaks perfect English and is a hard worker. He and Pablo like Mexican food for lunch, which comports better than McDonalds with Handy Brad’s sense of global balance.
The three honchos, led by Handy Brad (the other two I’m sure figure they are as skilled as he but respect his relationship with El Patron, me, based on nine months of continuous Casa Moonstruck Handy Work), will be working to set the deck right. Handy Brad would have moved the Gravipods down to the umbrellas without a thought, but it pained me too much to think that I could not handle this one simple task on my own. So I dragged them down myself. They each weigh 50 pounds do it involved a bit of effort. As the new Chevy ad states, we still work hard, just trying to make it a bit easier on ourselves. 100 pounds of sand cuts a nice notch in the palms of the hand, but if you use your legs it’s no big deal since these ballistic nylon bags make the task easier. There was a time in college at the arboretum when 100 pounds was nothing but a buzzing fly to me. Now it is a strategic effort to attack with care and seriousness.
So, now I am sitting in the shade of a spreading laurel tree, which Google tells me is a symbol of success and ambition. I suspect that in late November it more symbolizes past success and ambition since it throws a nice shade onto the teal blue resin Adirondack chairs with a cup holder molded into the arm. I like my games area. It is a peaceful place of afternoon respite and this spot in particular let’s me survey the grandeur of my games area accomplishment. I have only had three grand nieces and nephews use it so far, but based on the scat I cleaned off the putting surface, I’m guessing the coyotes like it fine. Man is an amazing beast, he can tame the wilds of the chaparral for no reason but pride of ownership and then revel in the accomplishment of virtually nothing, just to feel good about himself.
And I do feel good today. I spoke with Jeff, who remains in the hospital in La Jolla, sucking on oxygen while the doctors rub their chins about what exactly is causing the fluid buildup in his lungs. Jeff tried to escape last night against doctor’s orders and I was to be waiting outside with the engine running. But once off the O2, he got wobbly and realized that as little as they may know, doctors know best. So I was told to abort and I drove back the 35 miles to home thanking the Gods of health that I’m still just the wheel man in this Kabuki of life and breath.
But back to this crazy sun of ours. The shadows of the metal sculpture Saguaro Cactus look to be 2X the sculpture’s height. I’m sure I remember there’s a way how to figure our something from that, I just can’t remember if it’s just time of day or a combination of that and season. I’ve now looked it up and it is a bit more complicated. There is actually a formula that involves a geometric tangent that depicts the angle of the sun in the sky. But of course that is all about geospatial positioning (longitude and latitude) and knowing all of that can tell you BOTH the time of day and the date. It doesn’t take a genius to tell the approximate time of day if you have your wits about you, but knowing the date would seem to have some valid Robinson Crusoe value.
Luckily, just as I am not in a hospital bed in La Jolla, I am also not Tom Hanks stranded on a remote South Pacific island. It’s all very interesting in a general Earth Sciences kind of way, but mostly, as I sit here writing with the shadows lengthening and various creatures starting to rustle leaves in the garden around me, I realize it is getting a bit cool. A quick check of the weather app tells me its now 64 degrees and dropping at about the same rate as the shadows are lengthening (imagine that!). I should head up the hill to help Kim with the Thanksgiving feast preparations (or at least pretend to do so). Since Jeff is in La Jolla and Lisa is home in mourning for Jeff’s absence, that leave us with neighbor Mary for dinner. I think I can give thanks for all our good fortune up at the house as well as I can do it down here in the laurel shade. It is good to sit and reflect. There is much to reflect on and mostly much for which to say thanks, starting with the fact that at the moment there are nothing but blue skies.