It all began with my power walk in the morning.  I could see the stress of this year’s drought in the trees: the foliage of the sycamores is smaller, less juicy and opulent than the years before.   The number of acorns in the Oak trees are diminished, though still very much there. I marvel at the stoic patience of these majestic trees.  I feel as though I am in the presence of giants, of ancients.  I am humbled.   Here is my chapel of the morning: this oak tree glistening, glistening. Southern California trees glisten in the light.  But, oh, how fortunate I am to live here!

My chapel this morning.

On to the end of the road and my windmill.  Back to camp for great coffee and crossword overlooking what is much like (or
at least we think like) the plains of Africa.  And then off to a day at Shaw’s Cove in Laguna Beach.  But alas, a chain saw
massacre of a stump, seemingly an all day project.  So I kept on walking until the chain saw buzz was indiscernible.  And guess what? Talk about lemonade from lemons. We chanced upon the most delightful cove with room just large enough for us with our
chairs and our serape.

We put on our snorkels and masks to go in amongst the sea creatures.  My first encounter was with towering kelp and sea grass, moving in the rhythm of the infinite, the rhythm I too would become integrated within.  The sea bass, the leopard sharks, the bright orange garibaldi, we all moved as one and as of the infinite, of the universe, of the rhythm of tides and the moon’s rising and sinking and of that of the sun as well. We were all encompassed within it.  All.  And the knowledge of it was profound and deep.  The rock shelves were adorned with purple spikes of sea urchins, mosses and grass, and of starfish flopped each and every way of multitudes of colors.