The waves weren’t great, more of a shore break, but there’s still a lineup of hopeful surfers. No whales, though, so that was a disappointment.
I peeked through the trees and thought I saw a swan in the artificial pond near the lagoon, but…
…it was a lovely white egret.
I’m not sure why he’s there, as the actual saltwater lagoon is steps away, but maybe he knows something I don’t.
I wish they’d return for another visit to Casa de Enchanted Seashells. That was so cool!
A few photos to memorialize January 2024.
This is my favorite, a swan pedal boat on Agua Hedionda Lagoon. It’s an activity high on the list when the Angels visit this summer. Doesn’t that look like a lot of fun?
Now I’m standing on a path with a view of the trestle bridge and a peek of a blue Pacific ocean. Do any locals know my specific location? I bet not, ‘cos it’s a secret.
After walking all the way around the lagoon, this is a look to the east and a very low tide…
If you block out the electrical poles and the road, it’s easy to transport yourself back in time to when this land was the home of the indigenous Kumeyaay Indian Nation.
This is where they lived, fished, gathered berries, wove baskets, and buried their families. They lived in small family groups which had to move frequently to find new sources of food and water. Each clan wintered in a sheltered valley and migrated into the mountains in the spring.
It’s sacred land and should stay that way in perpetuity.
A May gray morning is the perfect weather for a walk.
My hydrangea is blooming and yes, I know I could turn the flowers blue with the correct fertilizer, but I decided to allow them to retain their natural hue without intervention.
At sundown, this is where I often see coyotes, but nothing right now.
Here’s the entrance to a lagoon path; how adorable is this community fairy village?
I’m not too sure what that big square thingy is on the shoreline, but I didn’t want to walk in the muck with my good walking shoes, so it’ll have to remain a mystery.
It’s rattlesnake season, so I diligently watched where I was going and spied a strange object. It’s not exactly a rock but feels heavy for its size and to me, it looks like a whale. Another treasure to bring home!
I hope your Sunday is happy!
I attended the very first Earth Day celebration in 1970 at Balboa Park in San Diego with a crowd of about 70,000 people. It was Wednesday, the weather was beautiful, about 68 degrees, and I must have skipped school that Wednesday.
I can’t remember who I went with or how I got there but I do recall walking from booth to booth looking for free stuff and having an unpleasant encounter with a San Diego cop, probably about being truant.
There is a vague recollection that I swore at him and he got all puffed up and intimidating, threatening to call my dad until I told him to go ahead, my dad was a lawyer…and then he walked away. Miss you, Daddy, and thank you!
Gaia, known as the mother goddess, was the personification of Earth. She’s described as a caring and nurturing mother figure to all of her children, plants, and other living creatures on this planet.
We’re all children of Gaia, Earth Mother, no matter where we live.
Here’s a photo of boats from my little slice of earth at Agua Hedionda Lagoon, along with a lone paddleboarder.
I walked along a little trail high above the water and this view seemed like it could be anywhere in the world, but it’s right here in SoCal.
Take care of Mother Earth and she’ll take care of you!
After all the rain we’ve had here in Southern California, every bit of land is awash in springtime color.
A picturesque view of the lagoon, train tracks, and Pacific ocean through Purple Mustard, an invasive weed:
I call this plant Beach Daisy, definitely a weed, if not also invasive…
And finally, I’m impossibly happy because the wildflower seeds I planted last year in my native garden decided to sprout and present me with lovely spires of lupine:
**All photo credit belongs to Enchanted Seashells.
After the rain, the hills are technicolor green and the lagoon is full of shiny sparkles.
I think the line in the water is from the tidal flow, but I’m not 100% sure…
Last week’s King Tides created the unusual sight of flooded marsh and wetlands.
Here at Agua Hedionda, freshwater creeks drain into a low-lying area meeting the sea. The ocean pushes tides and sands against the land as the creek drains its fresh water and sediment into the sea. This mix of fresh and salt water forms a brackish environment. The salinity varies with the seasonal influence of rain and storms.
Sometimes the tide is so low, we can walk all the way around to the south side where there’s a sweet little beach, but not that day!
With all of this recent rain we’ve had (and more on the way), freshwater basins appear and fill the normally dry land surrounding the lagoon.
After all these years, this is still one of my favorite views. We see the lagoon, freeway, train tracks, and Pacific ocean.
That’s the feeling I get from an afternoon walk around Agua Hedionda Lagoon. It’s the kind of holiday celebration I love.
This is the perfect spot to breathe and contemplate centuries of Native American history.
For ten thousand years, these rolling hills and canyons surrounding the lagoon provided shelter and food with an abundance of native plants and trees.
Indigenous peoples spent their winters making salt and gathering shellfish for food, jewelry, tools, and trade.
To the Luiseño, this area was Palmai, or “place of big water.” The Luiseño culture is noted for its mysticism and religious practices.
From “Seekers of the Spring – A History of Carlsbad” by Marje Howard-Jones:
“It was a hot and dusty afternoon when Don Gaspar de Portola and Father Juan Crespi called a halt by the banks of a tidal lagoon. According to the padre’s journal for Monday, July 17, 1769, the party had left San Alejo to the south at three in the afternoon. They had traveled one league before descending into a valley where alders sheltered a deserted Indian village. ‘We named this valley San Simon Lipnica’, he wrote. Taking special exception to the scent of decaying fish and other debris, it was the soldiers who unwittingly christened the lagoon for posterity: ‘Agua Hedionda,” the ‘stinking waters’.”
The Native American peaceful coexistence with nature created a culture whose openness and adaptability left them vulnerable to aggressive invaders, another tragic story of desecration, destruction, and appropriation.
I crossed the street to see if there were herons or egrets in the ditch that feeds the lagoon, and this is what I saw.
They almost looked like lily or lotus pads, but it’s a cluster of green algae. I hope it’s not toxic, BUT it clearly demonstrates how things that look beautiful might be harmful, noxious, destructive, and dangerous.
#WordlessWednesday
It was too hot too early to walk the full six mile round trip to the Pacific Ocean and back, so I settled for a longish trek around the lagoon with detours to observe it from different perspectives.
I ended up walking mostly all the way to the beach anyway and stopped at Rite Aid to buy myself a treat but nothing looked fun or appealing or was small enough to fit in my little backpack, so I continued on my journey.
Looking east from a secret side street overlooking Snug Harbor and the swan boats on Agua Hedionda Lagoon.
It wasn’t even 9am and the little beach was full of families enjoying Father’s Day and paddleboarding and kayaks. Thank goodness there’s no gigantic mall marring the view on the south shore.
Well, well, well, it seems like we have a very low tide, too, combined with our drought situation.
It’s not often that one could literally walk all the way around the lagoon to the beaches on the south side. I was wearing new shoes and didn’t want to ruin them in the muck, but for once it was entirely possible.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 