There are things afoot, media reported, or heard as scuttlebutt across the backyard fence.  Even in the most virus-devastated areas infection and mortality rates appear to be trending favorably.  Just as cabin fever has us all aching for even the most modest return to normalcy.

There are so many ways to look at what has been happening to us individually and as a people depending on the perspective lenses we wear and the degree of personal impingement experienced.  Is the medicine as bad or worse than the curse? As to the pandemic time signature, would this plague run a temporal course very much the same with a less severe lockdown medicine?  So little is known in the midst of this battle, and great questions will be asked with the perfect visual acuity of hindsight.  Our policy makers and the policies promulgated have been imperfect, but it seems to me that any negation is not for lack of sincerely trying to get it right.  And our essential workers, first responders and medical caregivers daily show mythical courage at helping in the midst of dark confusion.

My faith view keeps showing me the beautiful light of common decency.  I’m witness to people helping people and society broadly in ways large and small, a manifestation of steely resolve or open embrace of soulful urging.  Different as a function of how you see it, each perspective valid to the particular observer.  But all of it showing light amongst darkness.

Northern San Diego County’s nearshore has been experiencing what is called a Red Tide.  Under daylight the ocean has a somewhat opaque burgundy tint from the infusion of marine bioluminescent plankton.  At night the darkness is illuminated by a surreal glowing blue light. Light that shows only amidst the darkness.  Another way of looking at the darkness of this particular night.

The attached time-lapse sequence and still were from last evening.  A sign of the lockdown times, I snuck in under cover of darkness to a bluff top overlooking the ocean.  Not full camouflage or blackface, but stealthy individual force recon, just the same.  Down closer to the water was an INS vehicle on duty, guarding against I know not what.  I found a place surrounded by high coastal scrub brush and began looking for light to share.  It was fully dark, my shooting beginning about an hour and a quarter after sunset, and staying with it for another hour.  The exposure revealing clouds, stars and surf, results from time exposure per shot and diligent post production work in the digital lightroom.  Modest results to report back to Division HQ, but yessir, there is light out there, sir.

Be strong.  Be healthy.  Witness kindness and human compassion all around us.  Ponder why it is so.  Give thanks.

Bioluminescent Light Amidst Darkness

Day Thirty-Three

A proudly patriotic sunset

Day Thirty-Four

Last evening’s news lead story was a clip of mayor Kevin Faulconer announcing that San Diego parks were going to reopen today, April 21st.  From what I gather it is a sort of limited opening—open for individuals and small family units.  Six foot spacing and no group congregating allowed.  But life, as I live it.  Not the end of coronavirus lockdown but a beginning portent.  The first stage of removing the yellow taped affront to unfettered comings and goings.  Some would say the first step to a second round of infection, and they might well be right in crowded urban settings.   But I’ll take it as a waypoint in the flight plan to normalcy.

In navigation, you have a starting point and a destination.  Those are knowns.  Sorry, but it isn’t just what you’re told to do when you input a location in the maps system of your smart phone or auto hardware, it telling you to do it her way with a left turn in 500 feet, until somehow or other you get there.  I know, I’m a dinosaur who’s disinclination of doing simply because I’m told so is too much slide down a slippery slope.  Will this state of purposeful oblivion that is part and parcel with the unknowns of coronavirus stir a more hands-on grip on life’s tiller when the norms of late are in the rearview mirror?  An un-unkowing?

The journey we’ve been on has had quartering headwinds just like those here, at 11,500’ MSL on a return flight to the home aerodrome.  A mass of humanity below, over the northern approaches to the Los Angeles basin at the end of a day.  We’ll be at the end of this coronavirus course after passing yet more waypoints that we know lead to home.  For pilots, the flight back is nice, but the return to home is all the nicer.  We may have gotten here by viral accident, but getting there still requires conscious navigation, and a team effort, as it is for all of us.  The landing back home, not yet, but coming.

On course, headed home

Day Thirty-Five

Bedroom window open, chilled ocean air carrying loudly the sound of the sea all night.  Just the right combination of elements.  Wave size surprisingly not always a factor, but tide, wind and direction, atmospheric temperature and humidity often factors.  An invitation to go forth and see what the new dawn conveys.  An early light misty glow of Torrey pines?  Trails now reopened in many places, Sawyer and I will scamper paths somewhere.  Well, he’ll scamper, I’ll nimbly plod.  The news, so breathlessly changeable in this time of the virus, but nature, ever beautiful is ever constant in her nurturance of the soul.  Join me in drinking deeply from that cup.

Misty Torreys dawn

Day Thirty-Six

Until Tuesday’s approved opening of San Diego area trails (but not parking lot access) a little creativity has been needed to get out in nature and put dirt beneath feet.  The annual Borrego Springs desert wildflower fix has likewise been off limits.  A second hike on the Pacific Crest Trail has yielded, well, a “revelation” as to nature’s golden Spring bounty, a flower-strewn interlude between mountains and desert.  Getting the fresh air and wildflower fix wherever it can be found.  I hope you are coming up for air where you reside.  Practice the non-congregating distancing and hygiene dictates, and limit your out and abouts, but maybe trade a little nature for one of those grocery store visits?

Feel breeze on your face.

The path is paved with gold

Day Thirty-Seven

Phases.  Something that goes around and comes around.  As with the moon, which is “new” right now, its feline smile in the west at the end of the day.  The lunar calendar describing when Judaism celebrates Passover, Christendom celebrates Easter, and the Islamic umma celebrates Ramadan, which begins today.  This particular novel coronavirus is new to humankind, but there have been others, including the big ones like the Spanish flu, SARS, MERS, not to mention the vanilla flu, even the rhinovirus of the common cold.   History, and scientific pundits tell us that we will get over this one, but the pathway isn’t a straight and clearly defined one, nor does it appear to be particularly short.  We seem to be in a phase easing out of the worst of the societal medical uncertainty, followed by a similar clarifying of society’s economic miasma.  We’re not where we want to be, but at least we have some recognition as to where we are.  As a society.  Now, at the personal level, the phases are as different as the individuals and their particular circumstances.  Make the most of what little illumination we have now, and take solace in history and science conveying that the illumination, and with it, clarification, will continue to improve.  Peace be upon us all.

Twilight New Moon

Day Thirty-Eight

You ‘re looking at the silhouette of a 5,000 year-old tree, a tree that was already old at the time of Abraham.  Yeah, that Abraham.  It stands vigil in a grove of bristlecone pines in the rarefied air at over 11,000’ MSL in the White Mountains near the California-Nevada border.   Truly a Patriarch, whose perspective on having seen it all over the millennia, stands as testament to resilience in the face of the challenges of each new age.

Bristlecone Patriarch

Day Thirty-Nine

“Let’s be careful out there.”  The line from the sergeant conducting the daily briefing in Hill Street Blues has stuck with me over the years as on point and widely applicable.  Yesterday afternoon, giving Sawyer his end of the day empty-out walk along the cliff, we passed a few other walkers with and without dogs, but also one couple, and one single woman, who had settled in at their respective places in small open areas amongst the thick sea lavender.  Taking in the sun and reading books, stationary.  Two days before the beaches are slated to open at many places (but not Del Mar), and where the openings come with keep separated, don’t congregate admonitions.  Doing the most natural and pleasant things on a warm weekend afternoon, it nonetheless gave me pause as a hint of human nature’s inclination to come together.  Concern that I was seeing two glimpses of how challenging it will be to open the freedom of the outdoors without crowds resuming spontaneously.  We ache to return to normalcy, but given the state of affairs, normalcy of the past is not in the cards for some time to come.

Take care of yourselves.  Get out, but keep moving at a distance.

Spanish Steps

Day Forty

Lung power.  The wind in our sails begun with that first gasp at birth.  Powerful and natural.  Easily taken for granted until confronted with COVID-19 or other cardiopulmonary illness.  Loosening of lockdowns will provide more opportunity for robust respiration.  We can take advantage of that, feeling our internal sails billow, while plotting a sensible course in distancing and hygiene, that we avoid a return to the doldrums, physical or economic.

North swell spindrift

Day Forty-One

The isolation of the novel coronavirus is one of its most unpalatable features.  A good reminder to physically or emotionally touch someone you love and care about.  Be there for them, and let them be there for you.

Hand tree

Day Forty-Two

At its most visceral level this comes down to us and nature.  A stealthy bug that is mild for some, lethal for others.  Nature always has the stronger hand, it’s incumbent upon us to find a natural place in rhythm with nature’s power.  Admittedly hard to do with this bug, and learning that process and our particular place is evolving daily.

With the limited re-opening of the San Diego beaches and ocean, I got to the water’s edge yesterday, where nature offered low tide suck-out walls in the brownest red tide water you could imagine.  No solace for me there, but I did get in a nice beach walk.  Step by step return to the new normal.  I hope we recognize it when we get there.

Surfer sundown

Day Forty-Three

Skies have been dreary here on the coast the last few days.  Mirrors the dreariness of the coronavirus nexus.  Let’s color over all of that with some brightness.

Light vs. dark

Day Forty-Five

 

I’m feeling the drag of coronavirus fatigue, and just didn’t suit up for yesterday’s image.  Sound familiar?  The morning dog walk is simultaneously the morning surf check.  The waves aren’t visible on foggy mornings, but fortunately those are great mornings to wander the local canyons, the wetness suffusing the air with the smell of earth and chaparral.  The spider webs all glisten, strewn with a thousand tiny droplet diamonds.  And the Torrey Pines needles collect and hold water, each drop a lens revealing the bigger picture of the forest it inhabits and creates.  This virus isn’t tiny, but it is revealing things about human nature, both good and less so. More of the former I think.

Lens on it all

Day Forty-Six

So many rotten things about this coronavirus.  Given its apparent infectiousness and lethality for many, plus the uncertainties and unknowns, we’ve all been living with lockdown.  Inert stasis.  Doesn’t sit well with many, where the preference would be doing something to make a difference.  Action. A version of that played out yesterday.  Once a year our church foregoes traditional services on Sunday and organizes Community Serve Day helping out with nonprofits all over San Diego.  That was early February this year.  In response to the pandemic, it has morphed into Community Serve 365, yesterday with drop-offs at three separate north county coastal sites where anyone in the community could provide goods needed by many, to be distributed by non-profits to their vetted needy.  Voluntary team effort.   Vehicles drove through and CS365 worker bees collected trunkfuls of items which were then taken to collection vehicles for delivery to the non-profits.  Food, clothing, hygiene items, paper products (yes, TP, facial tissue, paper towels).  The nonprofit recipients spanned the spectrum—Helen Woodward Animal Center, San Diego Rescue Mission, Jewish Family Services, Community Resource Center, Ladle Fellowship, and close to heart for Cathy and me—Casa de Amistad (Friendship House) and North County Citizenship and Immigration Center.  And this was just one of three organized by our church.  One of countless other similar caring outreach events across the county, state, country and globe.

I’m reminded of the line from the song about “them’s that got, get.”  Yesterday it was them that’s got, give.  We vs. Me.

Help is on the way

Day Forty-Seven

The elusive green flash.  If you’re a SoCal beach bum like me, you’ve seen your share, but they are an inconsistent event, and very difficult to capture as an image.  I suspect that’s at least partially because some of the flash results from our rods and cones responding to that spectrum at the last moment of sundown.  But if your as-yet unfulfilled bucket list is to take in a green flash, here you go.  Green flash is better than coronavirus news flash to my thinking.

Green Flash. Blink and you’ll miss it.

Day Fifty

04:48 Muse call.  The overnight cirrus clouds had given way to a gauzy marine layer offshore.  Only a hint of the red tide luminescence with a full moon brightening the sea surface.  Still, aside from the hour, a nice way to start a day in the time of the plague.

Red tide moonset