Now that I'm in the Garden of Eden and didn't even have to die first, I can't make a decision what to do next between bouts of writing. There are orange, grapefruit, tangerine, avocado, macadamia nut, pomegranate and lemon trees, mango, guava and fig trees, peach and pear trees, as well as exotic ones I don't recognize. Since January means early spring here, they're already bearing fruit or blossoms. Muriel, the 85-year old wood nymph who owns this place said we are free to pick anything we want. Of course I won't hit the avocados without verifying since they're so precious, but otherwise the navel oranges are falling onto the ground so I'm indulging in them. I hadn't seen macadamia nuts growing before, so have been kind of fascinated with them. The pods pop open and drop the nuts, which are in a really hard shell, so have to be hammered out. But the nuts are loose inside and just fall into my hand. It's a matter of picking them up off the ground. Can it get any better than God not making me climb the tree first?
The wood nymph did leave a little basket with a ripe avocado in it at my door yesterday, which immediately became an omelet. She pops up from time to time with camellias for us in vases so large I don't know how she can hold them. I can't name the flower plants except for the hillside of geraniums and walkway daisies, but will be learning them as soon as possible since they're on every table top in the house.
This little cottage used to be Muriel's husband's art studio. He is now deceased and his paintings are in a gallery in San Diego
It's early this morning and fog has rolled in. I'm sitting, enveloped in a cloud with my cozy coffee cup. I guess that means we won't be seeing the sun actually rise today. The fog never reached us yesterday, but hung in the valleys. The temperature reached 63 yesterday, so I learned how to use the hammock.
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