two feet in.

Wanderings #5

There are times when my brain tells me I'm crazy for hauling myself out of my warm bed at an obscenely early hour on a Sunday morning to go out for a hike.  My gut instinct tells me to get up and go, that I won't be disappointed.  So true -- good to follow the gut:

Wanderings #4

Earlier today I posted this picture, which I had taken on an early morning hike, without any text.  It later occurred to me that I've never done that -- put a picture on the blog without some sort of explanation or accompanying writing.  Hope that this did not cause bewilderment in the minds of faithful readers.

There was, actually, no compelling reason for me to put this picture here.  I liked the way that the flowers laced across the sky.  And, the image seemed to capture the sense of clarity that was in air after our days of rain, and that I was feeling as I reached the top of the hill.

There's a Blaze of Light in Every...: Wanderings #3

One of the wonderful things about living in the bay area is having a sort of quasi-wilderness almost right out your back door.  Okay, so maybe wilderness is stretching it a bit, but there are many places to visit that if you time things just right, you can hike for a long time without seeing anyone.

This morning I headed up into the hills with my dog, Tessie.  She and I go out walking often, but it has been a long time since we have ventured past the immediate neighborhood.  The trip was long overdue for both of us.

No cars, no people (at 7:30 on a Saturday what do you expect?), and no leash.  Tessie was free to explore every tantalizing smell and small critter hidden in the tall grass and nooks and hollows off the trail.  I was able to clear my head, renew my spirit, and come home with nicely aching leg and butt muscles -- no machines or memberships required. 

Here's my faithful hiking friend after several rolls in extremely large mud bogs and a few romps through the creek:

Saturday morning hikes are definitely good for the soul, so we'll be headed out again next week.  All early-rising friends are welcome.

Mortars: Wanderings #2

So, I’ve been at this blog for a little over a week now, and I’m still not sure what to make of it, but I guess I’ll continue for awhile… at least until I hit the wall of time and/or creativity constraints.  It seems to be shaping up as a mix of daily observations/anecdotes (of questionable interest to anyone but myself), and education-related commentary and profiles (perhaps of greater interest to my audience – of the friends who may be reading this blog, many of you are educators of one form or another). 

Given everything going on in my life, I’ve been thinking that blogging is one of the last things that I need to be doing.  But… it is an opportunity for a bit of creativity in a crowded day -- the pictures that I take inspire my writing, and at times the writing inspires pictures.  So far I have been faithful about including images with every post, but that may end soon.

In any case, new and unexpected insights and interactions open up when you travel through your day with a camera.

Yesterday I was doing my usual walk up the hill with Isaac and the dog.  It is a big hill, and getting up it with nearly thirty pounds of kid on your back is a task.  On the way back down, I was hot and sweaty, so we headed into a cool, green oasis between some houses.  We examined a few trees that seemed to be growing out of the side of the moss-covered boulders -- I circled around, took pictures, and then began to head back out to the road.  We rounded a corner and came upon a group of three other hikers. 

One of the men asked me what I was taking pictures of, and was delighted when I said “Rocks and trees.”  It is not often that someone else seems as excited as I am about rocks and trees, so that made me feel good.

He then said, “Did you see the mortars?”

The mortars?  His companions and I looked at each other quizzically, and then back at him.  We were all silent for a moment, each lost in our own conception of what he might be talking about.

“The mortars!  There are mortars here!  C’mon, I’ll show you!”  We all followed him around the back corner of the rocks to the place where I had been taking pictures just moments before. 

“Here – mortars!”  He pointed to two, smooth round holes on the rock below us – Native American mortars for grinding food, probably from the Ohlone. 

One of his friends, an older woman, breathed a sigh of relief, and said that she had thought he was talking about bombs.  We all had a good laugh, and the three of them headed on their way.

I looked down at the mortars, partially filled with water and leaves, and realized how this new bit of knowledge had totally transformed my perception of time and space.  I had actually noticed the holes earlier, but my mind glossed over them, and I think that I imagined them as some kind of construction remnant from the houses that surround the rocks. Now, however, I saw this small, green oasis in the scope of history, and of people and the everyday stuff of their lives and work, and it made the Berkeley hills seem an altogether different place.   

Skull Rock: Wanderings #1

Bones that I see on my daily walk. 
Bone color = rock color, so click on image for a better view.