My love’s like a red, red rose

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Robert Burns, of course.

I’ve been posting a lot about the beautiful flowers in my garden because I know how short lived it al is and I want to enjoy it while I can…soon the hot sun and blistering Santa Ana winds will dry up all the lush blooms. We had so much rain this season that it really looks like a floral fairyland at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

Another day, another rose, a very red one, not yet open.

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A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns

O my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
O I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

 

And almost completely gone but still drunk with a dancer’s graceful elegance:IMG_9191

 

My For-Real Twilight Zone Dream; Also Reality

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You can’t make this stuff up, and that’s the truth.

Settle in for a Twilight Zone witchy type of a story.

Maybe you should stop for a minute and get your favorite crystal to hold for protection.

I’ll wait.

Okie dokie.

Let me give you the backstory; I don’t watch much local TV news, so there was no mention of what I’m about to share, neither on TV nor the internet.

No seed planted in my gray matter–conscious or subconscious—from any source.

Here’s the dream:

I was in my car with someone else driving. The time frame seemed to be current mixed with a sense that it was also eighty years ago.

We were driving to Ramona (a quaint little town on the way to our local mountains) and were stuck behind a line of vehicles from the 1920s-30s-40s era, the kind we associate with Prohibition; suicide doors, big tires, substantial, you know what I’m talking about.  If I remember correctly, I even think the dream was in black and white, or at least most of the cars were shiny black.

However, the car I was in was not one of the older ones. It was brand new.

This road to Ramona is a two-lane highway and (in my dream) there were about a dozen vehicles snaking steadily around the curves.

1930s Gangster Cars Car club: pachuco car club

Photo from Pinterest

I don’t recall being too impatient at the slowdown (unusual behavior for me lol) and then at some point we were able to safely pass all the cars and we arrived in Ramona.
The last part of the dream I remember is that we were looking for someplace to eat or do other touristy-type activities.

Cool dream, right?

Well, that’s not the freaky part, but this is…

Here’s the Twilight Zone reality:

I had a dentist’s appointment to follow-up on some oral surgery that’s taking a bit longer than it should to heal properly.

Because of the pandemic, I haven’t been out driving in a while, so I thought I’d take the long way home and drive down the coast. It’s a warm eighty degrees today and gorgeous.

Hand to heart, what I’m about to share is truth. I AM NOT KIDDING.

As I was driving south down Carlsbad Blvd, I looked around me and my mouth dropped open.

In front of me was a line of cars exactly like I had seen in my dream. I was following them. THE EXACT SAME CARS. Vintage autos from the 1930s and 1940s.  There was nowhere to pull over and snap a photo so you’ll have to believe me.

Was it a car club? Probably, right? But I have no association with cars, new or old, and didn’t see any overt or subliminal advertising of a car club event.

All I know is that my dream was now my reality. Except it was Carlsbad and not Ramona.

Who can explain it?

Not me, that’s for sure. I’m pretty much of a skeptic, a “show me the science” type, but I’m edging toward a healthy respect for the unknown. Even more now, haha.

How weird is that? I have no idea what it all means. I researched it and what I learned is that to dream of antique or old fashioned cars represents current decisions in an area of your life being influenced by the past or by nostalgia.

If an old fashioned car is black or red this is symbolic of your thoughts and decisions being too influenced by the past, or return to unhealthy habits or views, and you might need to focus more on healthy decisions.

In dream meanings, your car often represents how you control your life. This dream implies an extension of what is achievable, and with more confidence you can achieve anything.

Generally, cars are attached to our inner emotions and can indicate spiritual progression on both a psychological and emotional level.

If you dream of an old car that is not your own – such as an antique or old fashioned car, this is a sign that you are a strong willed person – a man (or woman) of grit and steel. It is a great omen for your life now and that you can trust your own judgment.

Old Cars: Cars are symbols of movement and momentum in your life. They can indicate how you are progressing towards goals or if you are headed in the right direction in your life. If you dream of your old car and it is in good condition then this is a dream of moving in the right direction in your life.

Well, that’s all interesting and even positive info about old cars, but I could find nothing about the “coincidence” of living the same scenario as occurred in a dream. It’s not like I’m a prophet…

“Dreams are known as “the sleep language,” and since the time of creation God has brought divine revelation to mortal men and women while they are sleeping. Scripture even calls a prophet a “dreamer of dreams” (see Deut. 13:1; Num. 12:6). ” Charismanews.com

There are those who believe that dreams can indeed predict or foretell the future. Prophetic dreams are linked to major disasters, wars, assassinations, accidents, lottery numbers or even with winning horse race. Such dreams have helped solve crimes. In history, Abraham Lincoln was said to have dreamt of his own body laying in a coffin two weeks before he his assassination.

Or was it possibly a variation of Deja Reve, which is a French term meaning “already dreamed,” and it can be thought of as the opposite of lucid dreaming.

Deja Reve is the feeling you get when you find yourself in a situation that makes you feel as if you dreamed about it previously, that you dreamed you would be there.

The person I was with in my dream was not with me today in real life. Today, I was driving alone. I have no idea what it means because nothing really happened.

I simply observed a line of antique cars pretty much exactly as it happened in my dream. I could think of a lot of other dreams that could be more relevant to me; a dream about a gigantic suitcase full of money or a handsome knight on a white horse (or car) to sweep me off my feet and carry me off to the sunset. In Hawaii. That kind of thing.

or

dreams about the future could be as a sign of a prediction you are being given from your spirit guides or god. … If you have the ability to dream about the future, you will dream about such things as world events like earthquakes, tsunamis before they actually happen in the days to come.

or could it be a precognitive dream which could possibly act as a warning.

A dream might sometimes show you something unpleasant that might occur if you continue on the path you’re on.  You experience the consequences/unpleasantness in your dream, and it allows you to course-correct and make another choice if you want to, so that you avoid the outcome shown in your dream. Then what you dreamed may or may not come about, depending on the choices you have made.

The second purpose of a precognitive dream is to show you that you’re on the right path.

A dream like this is usually one in which you see yourself, in a particular place.  The details are usually very specific.  Perhaps you see yourself doing something very specific, or you notice the specific details of your surroundings.  Perhaps you’re speaking to someone who says something very unusual that sticks out in your memory.

Then some time later, you find yourself in that exact situation, in those exact surroundings, with the person in your dream who says what they said in your dream.  You might have the same exact feeling in your reality as you did in your dream, like a weird déjà vu moment. annasayce.com

But why cars, I wonder? I don’t even really care much about cars. Did I time travel? Sort of an imperfect astral projection? Something to do with planetary influences?

I really, really wonder what the message is, especially since it was very much a Twilight Zone feeling.

If anyone wants to venture a guess, please share a comment and thank you!

Stars, Meteors, Mockingbirds, and Mozart

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It’s so quiet at night.

I love silence.

I love not hearing cars, sirens, air compressors, grinders, belt sanders, and the cacophony of other human discord.

What I most love hearing at night is the song of a coyote, the hoot of a Great-Horned Owl, and listening to my thoughts.

Since there’s been less human activity since the GREAT PANDEMIC OF 2020, I’ve come to enjoy the sounds of silence in my neighborhood.

Before I go to bed, I sit outside in total darkness on the deck. I look up at the sky and think about a poem I wrote in college about Orion; I guess I’ve always been drawn to the night.

This week, there were Lyrid meteor showers and even fireballs, but I missed them all. Still, it’s comforting knowing that they happened, even if I didn’t get to personally witness any.

Lately, there’s a new and beautiful addition to the songdogs and the owls.

It’s one of the only birds that sings at night in my area, the Northern Mockingbird.

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IzzyMPhotography

The northern mockingbird is a world-famous singer, considered finer even than the famous nightingale of Europe.

The male sings a medley of songs belonging to other birds, repeating each phrase several times before moving on to the next. 

Most songbirds learn all the songs they’ll ever sing before they’re a year old. 

He learns the songs of other birds and incorporates them into his own songs. Mockingbirds also sometimes “sing” the sounds of people whistling, frogs croaking, and doorbells ringing.

Although all adult male mockingbirds sing during the day, only a bachelor sings at night.

Their night music is a beautiful love song. As soon as the mockingbird finds a mate, he stops singing at night. And that’s how we’ll know. 

FYI: the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 makes it illegal to kill, harm, or harass the mockingbird (and other migratory birds).
From:http://www.birdwatching.com/stories/mockingbird.html

And then I started thinking about other types of beautiful music, like A little Night Music  by Mozart (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik), Eine kleine Nachtmusik (Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major), K. 525, is a 1787 composition for a chamber ensemble by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The German title means “a little serenade,” though it is often rendered more literally but less accurately as “a little night music.” The work is written for an ensemble of two violins, viola, and cello with optional double bass, but is often performed by string orchestras.

And finally, some Rumi:

Close the door of words
that the window of your heart may open.
To see what cannot be seen
turn your eyes inward
and listen, in silence.

No More Empty Nest…Mommy Hummingbird Is Hard At Work!

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It’s been five long years since I’ve been lucky enough to be chosen by a hummingbird as a sanctuary site to build her nest on one of my windchimes.

The last time it was built on hummingbird chimes (very witty, mama hummy, very witty) and this time it’s butterfly chimes, but in the same exact location right outside the kitchen window.

Mama works pretty much around the clock bringing feathers and spider webs and other soft little bits and pieces glued together with her own birdy poop.

I’ll update as the nest grows and mom lays her two precious eggs:

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Hummingbird posts from 2015:

Yummy Hummy Mummy

IT’S RAINING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA!!!!

A Mother’s Love #WordlessWednesday

Empty Nest Disaster

 

My No Good, Very Bad Day

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I’m window washing today. And the screens, too.

The house next door was finally sold –to flippers, who have been there seven days a week getting it ready to be re-sold.

They are SOOOO inconsiderate.

First of all, there’s the noise.

And then the LOUD music from their workers.

And the best day was when I saw they were painting a fence that was NOT a neighbor fence, that was entirely on MY property, which means not only did they trespass, but they vandalized. When I pointed out the property line, they said, “oops, we didn’t know”, so my reply was that a neighborly conversation to clarify would have been appropriate, and if they had also simply LOOKED, they would have seen the difference between the actual property line fence and the one twenty-four effing inches away from it.

To add insult to injury, the new owner/flipper said, “Well, it looked like crap anyway; it’s falling apart.” which is not entirely true, but it did need to be re-stained.

BUT NOT BY THEM. And not that shitbrown color. And not without my express permission.

Entitled narcissists.

THEN they started sanding something or other outside and the way the wind blows here, it all came my way and covered the windows.

Am I beyond pissed off? Oh yes.

The grit from their sanding is all over my paper towels, so PROOF.

Entitled narcissists.

Why are people so inconsiderate?

And that’s why I’m washing windows and screens today.

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Self-isolating roses

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All the rain we had in SoCal a couple weeks ago caused my roses to grow like crazy.

Planted at least six feet apart in order to comply with all social distancing orders, here’s a couple of little bouquets displayed in a Waterford crystal sugar and creamer, just because…

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…and my magical secret garden with a working windmill…

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…as well as an afternoon visit for snacks from Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, also complying with social distancing directives!

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I hope you’re enjoying a lovely weekend!

Pandemic Journal 2020: Walkin’ around my ‘hood

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It’s Easter Sunday and that always meant a traditional day hike or walk to the beach or a camping trip to the desert.

This year was a bit different because of the pandemic, isolating to protect ourselves and others from Covid-19.

But the beach always beckons. Well, not exactly the beach because it’s now closed, but non one can deprive me of a view of the magnificent Pacific Ocean.

My round-trip walk is about 6.5 miles, maybe a bit longer because I took a detour to include pics of Agua Hedionda Lagoon.

For those of you that didn’t get out for a walk today, here ya go!

It looks like an advert for a hallucinogenic (LSD) but that’s an ALTERED PERCEPTION haha. That’s just the way the light hit it. The sign really said “Beach closed.”

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And just in case you didn’t take the hint, this signage made it extremely clear…

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And if anyone is STILL clueless, this sign and caution tape is even more specific…IMG_9132

But here she is. Mother Nature. The Pacific Ocean. No waves. I bet a million dollars if there was a solid 4-6 swell, those waves would be packed. No one can keep a surfer from the water. That’s essential to life.

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I took the long way home around our Agua Hedionda Lagoon. Pretty daisies, the lagoon, and the power plant off in the distance.

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One of my favorite views; the lagoon and the ocean.IMG_9136

All the rain created a mudslide on Adams, the street around the lagoon.IMG_9137I’ve never before seen Adams closed at Park due to a landslide! Crazy times we’re in.

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And finally back home. There’s really no place like home. Dorothy was right.

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The Journey of a Feather

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After our week-long rainstorm, it was sunny and warm; a perfect time to pick weeds and do some heavy lifting in the garden.

Picture this: Our backyard can be divided into threes. There’s the level part with a lawn, and then there are twenty-eight steps that lead to the first hill, with more winding steps that ascend to the summit.

I took a break, eating a tangerine while I sat at the top of the mid-steps. From this vantage point, I could survey the entire level of the garden below. Birds were singing, butterflies were fluttering around in the soft breeze, and my eye caught the progression of something floating down from the palm trees in the neighbor’s yard to land on my lawn.

What was it?

I ran down and found a soft and beautiful hawk feather. It almost seemed to glow in the early morning light.

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What a joyous treasure, don’t you think?

According to Native Americans, a feather from a hawk symbolizes guardianship, strength, and far-sightedness. Another meaning : You are being asked to listen to the advice that friends and family are giving you. The messages you are receiving about the decision you must make is correct and only comes from love. Allow yourself to let go of the control and surrender. I like this one, too: Your life is taking a turn that will lead you on the path to happiness, joy, success, and love.

Hmmm, that certainly gives me something to think about, you know?

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Opposites:Rain and Sun, Wet and Dry, Shadow and Light

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The opposite of rain is sun. It rained all week here in SoCal, heavily at times. We received an official total of 6.20 inches of rain. That’s a LOT of rain for a mostly desert climate.

At times, it seemed as if it would never end. That’s the way a lot of things feel. Sometimes, you can endure so much pain and sadness that it seems as if it will never go away, that you’ll never be happy again.

I think it’s like going through a tunnel. When you enter, the light becomes dark and you are so immersed in it that everywhere you look, everywhere you turn–is darkness. It’s so dark you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. Every once in a while, someone might light a candle and you feel a momentary sharp stabbing pain to remind you of what it used to be like, but then the flame’s snuffed out and you’re thrust back into complete and total darkness. Which way is the exit? Is there a light at the end of the tunnel or will I simply stay here in limbo, in pitch-black inky hopeless melancholy? What’s the point of anything?

That was a heavy detour; my mind devolved and digressed and rambled through a rabbit hole of despondency. So there’s that familiar dark night of the soul too, that black spiraling tunnel of anguish.

Maybe I hit replay too many times on Kesha’s Praying. (see link below).

All I really set out to do with this post was share some pics of how much rain we had and how flooded my gardens were, in contrast to one day later, when we enjoyed a shiny sunny blue sky.

When author Alex Banayan interviewed Maya Angelou, it is alleged that she told him to write this sentence on his notepad and to never forget it. “Every storm runs out of rain.”

I hope so. I really do.

Here ya go:

Thursday’s rain…my arroyo seco, dry river bed, wasn’t so dry anymore!

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Saturday’s sun and the birds are singing:

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Kesha Praying

My Covid-19 journey of self-isolation: Day 21

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March 30: I feel like I’ve been training for this pandemic pretty much my whole life, but especially ever since my life exploded and I became a full-fledged hermit in a self induced cocoon to try and survive and heal from my own tsunami of pain.

A loner by nature, I’m peaceful while everyone around me is in a frenzy. I find serenity in projects at home, the garage, and the garden. I have always enjoyed solo exercising, working out at home instead of the gym, and I’m even more self sufficient now. Beaches are closed, but my own backyard sanctuary is open 24/7.

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. It’s a mindset. Home is not a prison; it’s a sanctuary. What a perfect opportunity to slow down and create your own retreat.

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Social distancing is a way of life. Not a problem. Avoid close contact? Not a problem. Shelter in place? Def not a problem.

I’m taking all the necessary precautions; washing my hands so often that I feel like LadyMacbeth minus the fact that I’ve never murdered anyone.

Doctor:
What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands.

Gentlewoman:
It is an accustom’d action with her, to seem thus
washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of
an hour.

Lady Macbeth:
Yet here’s a spot.

Probably because my mom was an RN and cleaned so often with Lysol that I’d often tell her I had Lysol in my veins instead of blood, but my house is VERY CLEAN. Like eat-off-the-floor clean. To me, the smell of bleach is as sweet as Chanel perfume.

Now I’ve ramped it up a bit. I disinfect food containers and cans before they come in the house, open mail with gloves on, and I have enough food to last three weeks.

The worst part of all of this is that Angel Boys 1 and 2 were supposed to visit and they had to cancel their trip. 2.0  just turned four and I missed his birthday as well as my son’s celebration, something that has really never happened in the 39 years he’s been alive.

When we FaceTimed, little Angel Boy 2.0. told me that all the libraries and toy stores and restaurants are closed. When I asked him why, he said it was “because of the virus.” I asked him what a virus was, but he didn’t know, only that all of his fun places weren’t available to him. Dad’s home because the university is closed and he’s teaching online. Mom and baby are home too, and I wish I was there to help, but I can’t go to them.

Everything is beyond surreal.

So far, I’ve had some good experiences and only one bad one.

This happened on March 11 and I wrote about it that day…”This virus is bringing out the absolute worst in people, including my own community. I was at our library, buying a couple books from the little store cos I’m going to have oral surgery and need to stay put for a bit. As I was paying for the books, I saw a huge bottle of hand sanitizer at the check out counter. I attempted to use it and the volunteer (about my age or maybe a little older) said it was “only for the workers” and “didn’t I carry my own hand sanitizer in my purse”. Needless to say, I immediately went over to the librarian who apologized and assured me that the volunteers are not supposed to HOARD the sanitizer, asked me to write up a complaint (which I did) as well as request of her to make sure all employees, volunteer/paid, knew that the library is a public institution paid for by my taxes and that was egregious behavior. What she should have said was “help yourself”. 

Except for the odd hoarding of toilet paper, that was really my only negative experience. Everyone else seems to have a feeling of community, that we’re all part of this strange Twilight Zone time, that 2020 will never be forgotten.

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So far, I’ve used five rolls of toilet paper. I know that seems like a lot, but I use it to clean, too. Did you guys hoard anything? How are you doing on paper products? Has this slloowww down changed your life? How? In what way? What kinds of adjustments will you keep when things go back to the way they were? What is it you’re missing?

I think we’re in for the ride of our lives. As above, so below.

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