Day 21

I woke up with a headache, the word, "Calliope" left over from dream, and this Tom Petty verse: "My sister got lucky, married a yuppie. Took him for all he was worth. Now she's a swinger, dating a singer. I can't decide which is worse. But not me, baby. I've got you to save me. You're so bad...." Headache, word and song on repeating loop the first hour.

Last night, the rain stopped. Today is blustery, amorphous white puffs dash across a cobalt sky. I asked Jim if I could accompany him when he surveyed the canyon access road, which leads to where a stream runs through thickets of giant redwoods. It was like a drive down into history, or a fairy tale. At one point, there was a precipitous drop and Jim told me of the storm twenty years ago that sent the entire mountainside into the base of the canyon, redwoods and all. As we drove further, we arrived at a dried up lake, the casualty of the mudslide. Beside the parched lakebed, a picnic bench, weathered reminder that once you could fish for fresh trout, grill it and enjoy it in this idyllic setting of lime green grass, wildflowers, sunlight, pampas and pine. Down the road the truck was stopped by a fallen tree. We crawled under the trunk and branches. It was a bay tree, its scent so intoxicating you understand why just one dried bay leaf adequately infuses a stew recipe. The standing redwoods were there when early settlers had built their homes, now long gone, down here by the creek.

The rainy season has not officially begun. I understand it can rain up to 16 days in a row. Judging by the number of downed trees from just one little storm, it's hard to guess how much labor goes into maintaining a property like this. Jim is the master of this ranch. He cares for Virginia's animals, the dwellings, Seeley's land. I think a "caretaker" (of anything) is a noble avocation.

Tonight, I'm working on a sketch of the Henry Miller Library. Nothing fancy about this library, its board and batten siding, wood porch with umbrellas, and windows plastered with posters. Though I've passed it many times now, I don't have a reference picture so I'm kind of making it up. What compels me to paint it is not its beauty, but its comfortability. It's a simple frame that houses an estate of passions. Somehow, I think Henry Miller would forgive me for taking license with the details.