Karinaland River

  Seeds Pointing to a Possible Future for Next Generations   sweet pea seeds securely nestled in their pods   The last few sweet pea flowers are straggling along in my now dry, mostly un-watered garden. I am just about to wrap up harvesting their seeds. I love this ritual: waiting for green pods to turn brown and brittle, collecting from various spots, splitting them open, the tactile joy of teasing the firm seeds out of their shell. Filling my old metal jar. The irregular round seeds rattle and roll with a satisfying tune – riches in my hand. I got plenty, offering some as gifts to friends. Come winter rains, I push the seeds in the wet ground. Of course, the sweet pea vines have been reseeding all along.      sweet pea flowers with   their intensely floral and slightly sweet fragrance Left in the hot sun, the pods split, curling into spirals. The pods’ spiraling force propels the seeds out into the world. I marvel how flowers have been our first litt...

Once shiny     Maybe 15 years ago, a Lizard with glittering stones was gifted to me by a friend visiting my garden. Many times,  Lizard  has been knocked off the deck’s railing by the squirrels. Now  Lizard  is resting and sun bathing on the small wooden bench at my Kassandra cottage. Its tail and both hind feet got broken over the years.  Lizard  keeps surviving, regrowing its tail, blending evermore so into  Karinaland .    happy  Lizard  dreaming     Over the years, losing its shine and jewels,  Lizard  has gained in other ways. Grown over with lichen, it becomes most interesting and unique – beautiful. More hawks around, less squirrels and their mischief, hotter burning sun and ferocious winter rains, penetrating summer fog and the invisible crawl of time, all are allowing  Lizard  to make itself truly at home in  Karinaland . Once sparkling, it is now camouflaged, unseen by birds of ...

Ocean Mist's Secrets     My old friend the whale head bone     Yesterday at the beach – a glorious feast of light. First sun, then many shades of grey are starting to lodge themselves into the minutely shifting landscape. Ocean, clouds, seaweed, sand, dunes, fog, mist. Within this play the seagulls, sandpipers, pelicans, geese, all creatures, even humans,  are included . The rhythm of change, ebbing and flowing, strong waves cresting and crashing. A thick soundscape, soothing with its improvised as well as repetitious melody, sometimes pierced by cries. Encountering the elements of life and death, I keep walking on... eventually merged with fog and ocean spray – all is misting my being…     pigeon guillemot   Once in a while strong, but fleeting, sunrays peak through, and vivid colors infuse the scene with bright blues, browns, greens. My bare feet find their steady rhythm on varying sand surfaces, soft, firm, wet, submerged by water, every so oft...

  Practicing the Silence of Spaciousness    The weight of light falling into the garden, and upon my bedroom cottage, is surprising – and exposing. My missing big Mama Oak lives on in her roots. Heaps of sawdust where she once resided, her generosity still palpable, it always will be. She and nature keep gifting, keep changing. The Unknowable is present. The silence of spaciousness – delicate, and intricate.   Out of nowhere, David sends me a photo from his shop. First rough bowl, he writes. It is cut from Mama Oak’s wood he has picked up five days earlier on July 6.  A rough draft that stills needs to cure for a few months till it can be fully sculpted.  In eine Schale . By nature, a bowl is empty. Within its emptiness, space is hiding… waiting...  the mystery still to be unraveled.     The wood of Mama Oak being prepped, many bowls in the waiting…     Visiting David’s efficiently, safely, and beautifully outfitted woodshop, I lear...

Fairy Wand     Every year this  plant being  spreads its arms wider and wider, taking up almost the whole patio. My entrance door is protected :) Visitors have to pay attention now, figure out how to weave their way through long spiky leaves, four feet high. Some of Fairy Wand’s flowering stalks are reaching into the sky towering at seven or eight feet. Everyone asks for the plant’s name, all admire her. Over time her fuchsia bells unfold their skirts for all kind of bees, including big bumble bees and humming birds. Then the seed pods start to form slowly, hanging, dangling, dancing in the breeze. She gives a long-lasting show, her stages of transformation are manifold. This is what I admire about Fairy Wand. Carefully studying her every day gives lessons about the process of maturing, shapeshifting. Every summer this time, I can’t resist to write about her, she spreads so much delight.    So, when friends arrive, they can’t ignore Fairy Wand. They must fi...

Atman         The empty space, hot sun, and stars at night. Cleaning up in the garden, a gentle breeze on my sweaty skin. Presents are still trickling in, surprising me... touching me. A couple of days ago, Bob Ng, my cello teacher, sends me this beautiful note and audio gift:    “As I thought about the silence which must have settled on your garden after the chain saws and workmen had completed their task, I was inspired to record my transcription of "Atman" as a tribute to Mama Oak.  According to Google,      Atman is a Hindu word that means 'soul or spirit'. Essentially, it refers to the real person inside an individual. It is made of part of the spirit of Brahman, who Hindus believe is the one true ultimate God. Therefore, it is not something that can be seen or touched, but it is eternal and everlasting.     I'm sure that Mama Oak had an interior soul that is as real as the ones that we humans experience.  This song i...

  Transformation   Throughout my (almost) seven decades, I have engaged in the process of change as directly as possible. No battling or fighting – but rather  dancing  with :) no matter what hardship. This guiding melody forces me to listen to whatever life is  gifting  me. To be sculpted & tempered with as much consciousness as I can muster. Desiring to learn, be present, be molded by the forces bigger than us. Growing – inner and outer transformation.      Mama Oak’s transformation – evaporating into another Gestalt? – is a joyful and exhilarating dance and adventure, lasting three days. My allies, natural curiosity and courage, help me to be present with all my senses, body and mind. The kind, and extremely skilled crew of six and the foreman Luis allow me to be around the whole time of this very dangerous work. My agility and 360-degree awareness are the necessary skills. Observing, taking photos, knowing when to get quickly out of t...

  Good Bye and Celebration of Mama Oak’s Life and Majesty   On Saturday July 2 – our first true summer day this year here in Berkeley – about 30 friends, old and young – are meandering through the Open Karinaland Garden , up and down the stairs. Contributing delicious food, snacking, gathering in groups on the several levels of patio and terraces beneath the live oaks. It is a sunny hot day that ends in a balmy sunset, everyone is enjoying the views, bright faces of nasturtiums, intoxicating scent of my iridescent sweet peas, and the welcome shade beneath the trees. Mama Oak feels honored, celebrated, admired in her majesty and magnificence.     ...how I used to swing by launching from the terrace wall to fly high into the oaks...    (photo by Fern)     My longtime friend Renate, takes up my invitation prompting guests to wear a flamboyant colorful outfit. Her playful overalls from Creative Growth artist Lulu Sotelo, who is one of her favorites, f...