Good morning from Asilomar Conference Grounds, near Pacific Grove, California!
I think my body clock finally adjusted to pacific time, and now I am rushing to get a post up before heading to breakfast!
There is something about the cool night air, the sound of the crashing surf and the fact that we quilted our brains out yesterday that gave me the deepest sleep I have experienced in days.
Okay, and maybe it was the fact that I remembered the ear plugs to block out the noise of the clanking heater that never turns off!
5 days to play with one quilt – how much progress could you make?
These gals are doing great!
The majesty of the California coastline is guaranteed to take your breath away.
Sheer cliffs, pounding surf, the sights of gulls floating, swooping and dancing on the breeze.
The tang of salt in the air.
Even the rain brings a beauty that can leave you speechless. At least it does me.J
I was picked up by my friend Claire – we loaded the luggage into her Prius and off we went heading south along the coast from Scotts Valley to Monterey and around to Pacific Grove.
It was an easy morning, and there was time to stop, park and walk along Paradise Point near Capitola between the intermittent rounds of rain.
My view of the Santa Cruz boardwalk –across from the pier where Randy and I headed out for lunch.
It’s usually NOT this grey.
But I stood there in the driving rain in the parking lot on the pier trying to get a photo of a place that meant a lot to me as a kid – SO MANY childhood memories happened here.
Can you even see the old wooden roller coaster? It's the first one I ever rode.
Growing up in Almaden Valley in nearby San Jose, it was often that we'd make a Saturday excursion going "over the hill" to Santa Cruz, where we would park the old Volvo, grab the cooler and the beach blankets, toys, umbrella, sand bucket and shovel from the trunk to spend the day at the beach.
Arms laden with all needed beach materials, we would trundle off from wherever we had miraculously gleaned a hard-to-find parking spot, walking beneath the fragrant eucalyptus trees and pathways edged by ice plant (succulents) overgrowth to claim our small spot of paradise on the beach for the day.
I lived in San Jose, down in Almaden Valley from 2nd grade through high school.
Growing up here in the 70s into the 80s really “WAS” the wonder years. A great place to grow up at the time.
This was the era of “come home when the street lights come on.” Of kick the can games and tag in the park across the street on long summer nights.
Where neighbors knew neighbors and everyone watched out for everyone else.
Of course over the past 50 years things have changed greatly, but this city knows so much about my growing up years, it feels wonderful to come back.
My friend Randy met me at the airport, and as we wound our way down to her home in Scott’s Valley, I smiled at each street sign and intersection I remember so well, their names rolling right off my tongue.
There was a whole lot of good living here in my early years.
