BurningbirdCold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colours from our sight,
Red is grey and yellow white
But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion.
From “Morning Glory” and “Late Lament”, Graeme Edge, Moody Blues “Days of Future Passed”
I returned from San Francisco, with its comfortable weather and lovely fog, to St. Louis where the weather is hitting record highs. I believe it was mid-90’s today and 50% humidity. The breeze kept the humidity down or it would really be unbearable.
Walking this morning, I discovered a wonderful tree along the way with these feathery pink flowers. I pulled over directly on the road and whipped out the camera grabbing a shot. Not the best of shots, but it at least shows the flowers.
It doesn’t matter what time of year – every time I go to Powder, I discover a new plant, bird, or flower. Every time.
Home. Pink froths of flowers and fireflies and secret glens behind thick ropes of vines, surround ponds with turtles that follow you about, swimming beneath water lilies that flower once per year. I’ve lived in so many places and so many states and cities, but I don’t think I’ve come to care for any as much as this hot and humid and politically conservative but magical place.
During the drive home I thought about the Mississippi Bourbon and Blues Social I joked about a while back – a sort of counter-conference. A conference in the rough, with regular folks like you and me who have shared much with each other.
Having a get-together as a reaction to Dave’s elitist Harvard conference isn’t a good idea. Having a get-together as a reaction to any conference isn’t a good idea. These are important to folks, and I wish them nothing but joy with them.
(Joy with shoes on that is. Best wishes to Halley and I hope that your foot heals quickly. Way to go Liz – hero of the night.)
But the get-together in Missouri – that is a good idea.
No conference rooms, though. No weblogs, no TiBooks flashing their little white apple, no cellphones and iPods, no sponsors, and most likely no belly dancing. Above all, no buzz, no politically correct shmoozing for the cameras. Just a group of people who want to get together, walk about and explore, sit down to good dinners with great music, and chat with each other while they do it. Directly with each other rather than sitting side by side, reading what each other is writing in their weblogs.
I’m thinking of putting together a 4-day weekend of indoor/outdoor activities, either the last weekend of September or the first weekend of October and inviting folks to join me if they’re interested. I figured on cave exploration, picnics at Tower Grove, hiking, walks, bike rides, river boat rides, Missouri Blues and good down home southern cooking. And a drop of bourbon for those who imbibe.
All against the backdrop of Missouri as the summer greens give way to the brilliant colors of the Fall. An Open Aire Conference, if you will.
The good thing about a “conference” of this nature is that it doesn’t matter how many or how few people show up, because you can always have a great time.
Stay tuned as I think on this more.
Update Thought more, and it’s not going to happen.
I didn’t take many photos on the trip home, but I couldn’t resist a colony of ground squirrels at the last rest area in Utah.
Ever wonder what a ground squirrel is thinking?
I walked around my old San Fran home near the Bay Bridge this morning. In particular I wanted to see what they did with the park they were finishing along the Embarcadero by my place.
Oh. My. God.
The park itself is rather nice, with simple green hills and flowers and nice chairs for people to sit on and watch the water. On some of the cement blocks bordering the green, bronze imitation octopus and shells were embedded in the cement, for those tourists who, I assume, were too dense to notice that they’re by the Bay. One or two embedded items might have been nice — several dozen repeating in a pattern, like tile on a kitchen floor isn’t. I’d have taken a picture, but I has to ask myself, Why?
Still, these were not the jewel of the park, the center of attraction. On no. That was reserved for a 60 foot tall bow and arrow embedded into ground.
I stood there for some time looking at the supposed feathers on the arrow, trying to figure out why San Francisco was using a Native American theme for what is a water-based parkway. I assumed that’s what the bow and arrow symbolized. Still, it didn’t make sense –after all, San Francisco has never had much identity with native American history, other than the tribe that took over Alcatraz that one time.
I also wondered if the statue had increased the traffic accident count on the Bay Bridge, with its full view of the, urh, artwork.
(When I came back to the hotel to rest in the early afternoon — still feeling the effects of the drive and the moving yesterday — I looked the statue up. It’s called “Cupid’s Span”, and symbolizes San Francisco as a romantic city. Oh. Good. God.)
After the bow incident, I explored the newly renovated Ferry building, and that was a real treat. Lovely restoration, and the use of the space for upscale dining combined with hometown food purveyors like Acme Bread (Yum! My favorite!) is a great use of space. Not to mention the Farmer’s Market. In fact, I’m heading back this evening for the Thursday night Farmer’s Market, where I hope to pick up dinner. Following, I’ll wonder down to Pier 39 and beyond, saying hi to the Pelicans and seals, and the guys painted silver.
I thought about walking down to the bow and arrow one more time, taking a photo of it in the sunset light, which could only help it (nothng can make it worse). But then I thought — Why? Hopefully I’ll have other pictures for you tonight.
Tomorrow I take off for home, and as I’ll have no time to play along the way, this will be my last digital postcard for this trip.
I spent this morning making one last visit to Dog Beach (Crissy Field/Golden Gate), to the Ferry Building and the Embarcadero, and yes, even to the Big Damn Bow and Arrow (BDBaA).
There was some odd activity at the BDBaA. It looked like a guy filming another guy in front of the BDBaA, while that guy was taking pictures, or pretending to take pictures, and the person being filmed was also being photographed. What I couldn’t get into the picture was a woman just out of the frame who was also taking pictures of all of them.
You know, if this were any city other than San Francisco, I would find this strange.
At the Dog Beach, I was reassured to see that yes, part of the beach does still allow dogs, and spent some time this morning watching then. The big dogs are impressive, but it’s the little ones that always catch my eye. Makes me want to get a dog until I remember what my cat, Zoe’s, reaction would be to me getting a dog.
In particular, a little Yorky, feisty little bugger, kept running at the waves trying to take bites out of them. I nicknamed him Bush Junior.
When I leave tomorrow morning, I won’t be leaving my heart, as the song goes. I had a good time in San Francisco, both this trip and when I lived here. I’ve enjoyed the bridges and the beaches, and the dogs, and the surrounding lands. Now, though, my place is in St. Louis.
Well, in St. Louis at this moment — if an opportunity I’ve been given works out, I’ll be moving again in the near future.
Another day, another adventure. See you when I get back home.
