Category: Bay area, Calif.

Out the window

Carol and I recently completed a mind-body wellness class offered (for free!) by our health care provider. One of the things that our instructor said was that a good way to reduce stress is to spend time “in nature.” Further reading in the text book for the class revealed that our brains becomes fatigued by doing all the things most of us have to do in our jobs: staring at computer screens, meeting deadlines, sitting in meetings, etc. The natural world engages different parts of our brains, allowing the fatigued parts to rest. — I may not have this exactly right, but I think I have the gist of it.

When I learned this, I thought to myself: and where are we supposed to find the natural world in downtown San Mateo? This is not Tokyo where, according to my Aunt Martha, who lived there for two years, the residents cultivate little pockets of natural beauty throughout the city. Here in San Mateo, we could walk over to Central Park where the Japanese American community maintains a Japanese garden; but that garden is only unlocked for a few hours a day. Like many densely populated areas in the United States, downtown San Mateo has little to offer in the way of natural beauty; it combines urban density with dreary suburban sprawl; and even where there is some natural beauty, someone will have dropped trash there: fast food bags at the base of a tree, malt liquor cans thrown in among flowers, women’s underwear draped in the branches of a tree overhanging San Mateo Creek (I’m not making that up).

At some point during our wellness class, though, I realized that we have created a little oasis of natural beauty on our little balcony. We have nothing to compare with Japanese bonsai, but over the years we have accumulated quite a few plants. At the moment several of them are in bloom: the purple flowers of the potted lavender; the orange and gold of the nasturtiums; the vivid pink flowers of the succulent Carol can’t remember the name of. I was staring out the window at these flowers this morning. Carol walked into the kitchen and asked, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

Memorial Day

Carol and I went to Wisnom’s hardware store across the street. I had to get some supplies for this Sunday’s Judean Village project in the Sunday school, and she went just because it’s an interesting place.

One of the guys who works there who knows us asked if I was finding what I was looking for. I said I was, and then asked why there were so few people in the store.

“Maybe because Easter was Sunday,” he said. “Maybe because school vacation’s this week. Maybe because Chinese Memorial Day’s tomorrow.”

“Chinese Memorial Day?” I said.

“April 5,” he said, “solar holiday, so it’s the same day every year. On Chinese Memorial Day, everyone goes to family graves. I went yesterday.” He bowed to an imaginary grave. “There will be lots of people up at Skylawn cemetery tomorrow. Flowers everywhere.”

We started talking about visiting graves, from a New England and a Chinese perspective. I wanted to hear more about Chinese Memorial Day, but Carol had to get back to work, so we cut our conversation short.

Ching Ming Festival

Click the Chinese characters above for photos of this year’s Ching Ming Festival in Skylawn cemetery.

Dusk

I like the contrast between colors that occurs at dusk when the sky turns a deep blue at about the same time that yellow-orange sodium vapor and incandescent lights turn on. I was enjoying this phenomenon a couple of evenings ago when I noticed that a nearby traffic light periodically turned some of the shadows red:

BlogMar0213

Golden haze

Carol and walked down to the waterfront in San Mateo. It was a beautiful evening. It’s the rainy season, so the hills across the bay are now a soft green. The setting sun glinted off windows of houses far up in the Oakland hills. And a beautiful golden haze hung over the waters of the bay.

“It’s the golden haze again,” I said to Carol. We’ve been seeing this for the past week or so: cold, still air has settled down over the area, trapping pollutants in the wide bowl formed by the mountains surrounding the bay. The people who monitor air pollution have been detecting high levels of fine particles, and because of that all wood fires have been banned most days this week. The air quality index has been moderate to unhealthy. That’s what has caused the golden haze.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. We kept walking, watching the shorebirds, and the play of light on the water.

Written on Monday, posted on Saturday; I’ve been slowed down this week by a cold this week.

Treasure

Two nearly identical houses across the street from us went on the market today. An artist couple had been living there, but finally they decided to sell.

I was out in our driveway putting racks on our car. I saw a couple pushing a stroller come up to the first house, and I heard a well-dressed woman, presumably the real estate agent, tell them, “We’re not quite ready to open yet. Come back in half an hour.”

When I came back from picking up some plywood, the houses were obviously open. Two or more cars a minute drove slowly down our dead end street, slowing down when they reached the two houses. The sign out in front of the first house said, “Treasure behind door #1.” I didn’t bother to see what the sign in front of the second house said.

Carol went over to look. She said that paintings done by the artists who used to live there are hanging on the walls. She overheard someone say, “…but they won’t appreciate that much because they’re on the wrong side of….” We are on the wrong side of the tracks: gardeners and artists and cab drivers and ministers live down this street; many of us are renters, and the majority of us aren’t white.

But these houses are going for less than half a million, an incredible bargain in the Bay area housing market. So the people keep coming, amazed to find houses for so little money.

Jan 19 2013

The golden hour

We’ve been having a lot of rain and clouds in the Bay area recently, and Carol and I have really been noticing the effect of the shorter days and longer darkness. By three thirty in the afternoon, we begin to feel a little gloomy, and we get gloomier as sundown approaches.

Some years ago, I was visiting my Aunt Martha and Uncle Bob in the autumn, at the time of year when you really begin to notice that the days are growing shorter. As sunset approached, I mentioned something about not liking the loss of daylight.

Aunt Martha looked out the window, and said, “Your uncle and I call this the Golden Hour.” And indeed, outside the window the sky was becoming golden.

Uncle Bob got up and said, “We usually have tea right about now. Would you like some?”

I helped him in the kitchen. Then we all sat down to tea and snacks while we talked about family and current events and anything else that came to mind. I felt my mood perceptibly lightening.

Earlier this autumn, I happened to remember that visit with Aunt Martha and Uncle Bob, and now I have taken to thinking of that late afternoon hour as the Golden Hour. And if I’m at home with Carol, I’ll turn to her and say, “Want me to make some tea?” She always says yes, so I make some tea. Soon we sit down to tea and snacks, and we both feel our moods perceptibly lightening.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Scroogemas…

Susan and I were standing outside the Main Hall yesterday morning, waiting for the first service to begin. A fifth-grade girl walked up, wearing a red sparkly t-shirt. I asked if she was dressed for the Christmas season. She said she was.

I introduced her to Susan, and added, “Susan and I are both Scrooges.”

The fifth-grader looked a little surprised, and maybe skeptical.

“Here, we’ll show you,” I said. “Ready, Susan?” Susan nodded.

And in perfect unison we said: “Bah! Humbug!”

The fifth-grader laughed to see two otherwise respectable middle-aged adults act like Scrooges. This is why you bring your children to a Unitarian Universalist congregation: so they learn what adults are really like.