I Want to Never Leave

In a perfect world, there is only now

I’m in Santa Barbara, California strolling through the neighborhood known as Montecito, in search of tacos al pastor. It’s a block or so to the beach, the sidewalk lined with palm trees and boutique hotels with names like The Hideaway and Ala Mar. Standing outside on a hotel balcony is a middle-aged guy in t-shirt and shorts, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. We wave.

“I want to never leave”, he says.

Same here. Ostensibly, I’m in town to visit my California-dwelling daughter and a fellow Texas ex-pat friend who lives a bit futher north near the coastline. That creates the perfect excuse to suspend myself, however briefly, in a place too pristine for words.

There’s a little garden gem in Santa Barbara called “Lotusland”, presumably Japanese-inspired, originally owned and curated by one Madame Ganna Walska, a Polish opera singer and socialite, in the early 1940s. It’s whimsically charming with lots of decorated tiles and stone sculptures of cherubs.

I’ll refrain from talking about all the marvelous shops and restaurants we took in but I have to show you this very chic antique dance card spotted at a store.

Going Aboard

Turns out that there’s a very cool way to travel the southern and central coast of California. It’s called the Pacific Surfliner, Amtrak owned and operated, which transports passengers from San Diego to San Luis Obispo (or SLO as the locals call it) and back again.

Traveling by train, especially in the United States, is an old practice and a rare experience for most. All I know about trains is largely derived from Agatha Christie mysteries. I can see where a train trip might be noisy, annoyingly off-schedule, and uncomfortable. But the Surfliner does not disappoint, and you can’t beat the oceanside view for most of my excursion from Santa B to Lompoc, California.

Plenty of room and mostly had the train car to myself, miles of beaches to ogle at high-speed.

My friends took me to Morro Rock Beach one day. I don’t recall all the adjectives we spewed out, gasping in wonder as the waves crashed over the jetties (I swear they were 20 feet tall), so I’ll let the photos and video speak for themselves.

Now for the video - wait for the big crash at the end. If your audio is on, you can hear me groaning.

With my pal Helen.

Meanwhile, in our own backyard

Spring is teasing us. Daffodils and other flowers are budding in our yard and Jeff has started some vegetable sprouting for the summer crop.

We bolted a handmade owl house, in the hopes that one will nest here, on a tree in front. No takers yet but if we get one, I’m naming him Hootie.