Celestial Awakening

We packed the car after John John went to sleep.  The thinking was that we’d wake him up and load him in the car and he would sleep on the two hour drive.  Of course he stayed up the entire drive.  But he was quiet the entire time and when we arrived I took him out of his car seat. The moon was three-quarters and bright up in Santa Rosa at 11pm. I pointed to the moon and asked John John what it was.  He knows the moon: he says the word when you point to a picture, whether in full or crescent or with a funny face.  But being a child that goes to bed when the sun is still out, those depictions are the only moons he knows. So I pointed and asked him, “John John, do you know what that is?”

“Egg!” he said.

“No, it’s the moon!” I said, “The real moon!”

He looked intently.  “Moo(n),” he said.

“And those little white dots,” I said, pointing to the stars littering the night sky. “Those are real stars!”

“Stah,” he repeated.

We looked at the moon and stars for a few more moments, naming them .  In the morning it was the first thing he did to point to the window in the direction we’d seen the moon, and sleepily said, “moonh.”   Love this little guy.

April Peonies

We pretty much missed the cherry blossoms in Japan (aside from the few trees at the Hakone Open Air Museum) but were lucky enough to see my mom’s peonies in perfect bloom.  It stormed the day after I took these pictures and the flowers were destroyed.  Ah, such is the transitory nature of all things – but these things of beauty will live on in my memory.



Also, my uncanny knack of capturing blossoms with a bug attached astounds me.

Stone Cold Lampin #5

Stone Cold Lampin’ #5

For this show, I start in a reggae-dub vein and move into jazz in hour 2 and classical in hour three.

Hour 1: Starts at 2:53 so you get a few minutes of Soul Patrol.

Hour 2:

Hour 3:

Streams via kfjc.org

At the Farm

On Memorial Day we went to an open house – well, open farm – of one of the farmers who comes to our year round farmers’ market.  It was about 50 minutes away, near Watsonville.  John-John picked and ate raspberries and strawberries from the plants at this organic farm.  “No pesticides, maybe just a little dirt,” we were told.  And, as they say, dirt don’t hurt.imageimageimageimage

Added bonus – FARM EQUIPMENT:imageimage