There's nothing sexier than bare feet covered in computer cords. I know, because I just looked down, and my bare feet were covered in computer cords, and I thought, 'That is dang sexy, Rona.'
However, that has nothing to do with anything related to blogging on the road, unless to indicate how I do it.
A lot has happened since my last post: Sedona, Joshua Tree, L.A., Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, Big Sur and other such coastal wonders. And I can't decide if I should just post pictures and be done with it, or try to describe the moods and settings, or maybe a combination of the two. I've also found an interesting dilemna with my new-to-me collages (which I love, as I can post oh so many more photos now), and that problem is my inability to caption them individually. Which is usually not a problem, not really. But sometimes I look at a particular photo and I have something to say about it. Or more often than that, the words come when I'm TAKING the photo, like the moment, the place has something to say--and that's why I'm taking the shot, to hear it and give it voice--and then later I sit down and I look at the hundreds and thousands of them on the screen, and the din of their clamor is deafening. And into a collage they go, making a giant commotion all the way.
Alas. So it goes. On to the ruckus.
First, Sedona:
You know, it's funny, but I'd always heard about Sedona in terms of its new-age-spiritual-feel-goodery-crystals-and-detox sorts of activities. But when I was actually there, it felt for all the world like a ski town. Maybe that's because these giant rock mountains were right up on the streets, all 'yo yo look at me not at that bagel and coffee,' and that's the same sort of aggressive mountainous talk you get in ski towns. But either way, it was interesting and unexpected and I liked it. I'd be curious to someday try one of those secluded spa-retreat places, where they starve you all day with chai tea and teach you to meditate, but until that day happens, please to love Sedona's red rock majesty with me.
Then we have Joshua Tree:
Joshua Tree National Park pretty much speaks for itself: it's got trees. Rocks. Brush. Rocks. Trees. More brush. Mountains. It's very rad, very 'mojave desert.' Very, 'you need a jacket and a bottled water, and don't hike too far in or you might die.' Which is all one can ask for out of their national park, really.
And then we have central coast California, the lush and lovely green opposite of all the deserts and hot springs and rocks that have been loved to date. How can these places be so different and yet both so absolutely perfect?
Someday I want a house with a palm tree. And a lemon tree. And maybe some small rows of grapes, just to check out what all the fuss is about. Someone, tell me you want to do this with me. And we'll do it.
It's breeding and birthing season for Elephant Seals right now. Did you know that? I didn't until hitting Morro Bay, where kazillions of them hang out, lying around like so many giant lumps of blubber on the sand. According to the many informational signs posted, the male elephant seals have this sort of chest armor for all the chest-thumping they do when battling with other elephant seal males. Another sign explained the sounds one would be hearing from the beach--the coo'ing of the pups to their mothers, the roars of the males to each other--and it mentioned that the females snarl when the males come near to ward them off. Which I thought was pretty fantastic. Then another sign that said that all the battling between the young males provided good experience for mating season, although it didn't say exactly why. Hmmmm.
I was going to put some Big Sur pictures up, but I realize now that's too much for one day. Plus Big Sur was so wild and dark and mystical that it really stands alone.
Off to Bodega Bay now, land of barbequed oysters and miles of foggy, rugged coastline...
Until we meet again, hugs and kisses,
ess
