Karinaland River

  Ginkgo   Today is the first anniversary of my young Ginkgo tree’s life here in Karinaland. He came  on the last day of November, naked –  with a handful of yellow leaves still dangling. He took to his spot on the front hill, thriving in spring and summer. The circle is full now: baby Ginkgo displays his golden splendor, and then he lets go of his riches. Turning inward, falling quiet, pulled down into the deep dark moist root kingdom to replenish. Time to dream…       Three weeks ago, Ginkgo still in golden dress-up     More about Ginkgo in Spring:   https://karinalandriver.blogspot.com/2022/04/the-green-leaves-of-my-new-ginkgo-tree.html  

  How beautiful the day is for many of us.   How tragic the day is for many of our fellow citizens. They deserve our participation in mourning. Today a Day of Mourning for First Nation People. A Week of Grieving for many Americans. Every Gesture of Mourning by those of us alive is as well a Celebration of Life – how much we cherish others and being alive. This is how we bow.   The 641 Garage BLM Memorial Mural – finally finished and thoroughly sealed A last detail added:  what does being alive mean to you?       My question floating on the  last  empty panel  of  the memorial wall , unfinished and curious...   awaiting your reflections...

The Bridge By Bob Ng   San Francisco   Spring   1958     Huddled in the bow, we are the only passengers for the short voyage across the bay. With a long blast of its whistle, the wooden car ferry backs away from the dock. The engine throbs, leaving a churning, foamy wake trailing from the stern.    The air is heavy with the smell of fish and salt. Gulls circle overhead.        “This is our last chance to ride the ferry,” explains my father wistfully.    “With the Bay Bridge finished, it’s now faster to drive.”        Both of my parents had attended Cal.    And their daily commute by ferry - from San Francisco Chinatown to Berkeley and back - was a trip that they had made countless times during their college years. During the war years. Back when Japanese classmates had been forced to abandon their studies and board buses bound for distant internment camps.   But today belongs to the Bay Bridge – that critical but unglamorous link in the freeway system that carries us swiftly over the s

With focus on the wild rose, Emma’s smile is glowing even more –   h er new hair color matching the blossoms, she becomes one of the roses... Let me introduce you to Emma.  Since August  she  has been coming on Fridays to help for a few hours in the garden. What a lovely spirit of openness she brings, always finding little treasures while weeding, collecting live oak leaves, struggling with ivy, and her own perfectionism :) Happily lost in the wilderness cutting back hidden live oak shoots Emma's words, written on her cell:   “I was first connected to Karina through a mutual friend and fellow garden lover. This connection came on the eve of starting a three month break from my full-time job to nurse my anxiety riddled burnt out little bodysoul. It feels like divine timing to become acquainted with the beautiful, healing, and grounding Karinaland at the beginning of this respite. Karina and the land she stewards helped me learn some transformational lessons of moving slow, thoughtfu