Karinaland River

  Ode to Squirrel Well,  I have mentioned my squirrel acrobats quite a bit in this   Karinaland River   over the past two and half years . With admiration, exhilaration, and annoyance, all of it. Here finally an ode to them, now that there are less residing in my Live Oak kingdom. The other day, the young hawks started whistling, claiming their territories again. Very rarely have I tried to photograph squirrels, realizing my lack of talent and patience for it. Too easily I get mesmerized, following the little creatures’ fast movements with my naked eye, ooh-ing and aah-ing, laughing, talking back to their chatter, at times chasing them with a broom. In the past I used to complain about the hordes of endless big fat squirrels, declaring them my nemesis as they “steal” all the plums or apples before they can ripen. This habit of taking a bite and then dropping the fruit, so annoying. What a waste. At times I have fantasized about a slingshot or bb-gun to deter them, b...

  Well, Squirrel Week just ended…   The photos in the daily short articles are endearing, funny, and mind-boggling. If you need a reprieve from human news, try these reports from Washington, DC. https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2022/04/11/best-of-squirrel-photos/   As you know, I have my own squirrel paradise in the old Live Oaks. And have reported to you about them before. For years, I have felt the common Eastern Fox Squirrels here in California are just too big to be considered cute, they are ravenous, greedy, and wasteful dropping stolen plums and apples after just one bite, leaving sometimes nothing unless I want to harvest unripe fruit.      Then last November came Silvana into the picture a much smaller lithe acrobat and air dancer. She’s been building nests with a partner, and I have two kinds of squirrels now in the garden. There is a lot of flirting going on, when I talk to them out loud, and after a while I make sure to also scare them awa...

  This is how the world keeps changing     Two weeks ago, hearing the rhythm of small feet on the roof of my bedroom cottage named Paraiso, I realize this is music I have not heard in a while. From my window, still in bed, I can see a tiny light squirrel jumping onto the nearby massive oak trunk. From here solid moss-covered branches are curving and reaching high. The little one looks almost naked, perhaps she is on her first outing – but she is scampering up into the heights. Aha, a new batch of squirrels is ready to inhabit trees and garden. But raising a squirrel family is not as easy as in the old days. The oaks have become very thin during the drought years. And each year one or more hawks are patrolling the neighborhood with their territorial whistling calls. Despite the crows’ loud ruckus, the hawks will not be deterred. They are busy keeping the squirrel population down. It used to be over the top, everyone complaining about the squirrels ravaging fruit trees. Now...

Dropping the Ball In plain sight, the squirrel drops the ball – I mean the green apple – it had grabbed from my very old Golden Delicious apple tree in the back, some fifty yards away. The squealing voices of Nicky, Laura, and me – standing just ten feet away on the front stairs – scare and/or perhaps surprise the youngster as it skillfully scurries on top of the narrow uneven fence. The big, still unripe apple falls… I notice a split second of frustration and hesitation in the squirrel’s movement, a temptation to get down and fetch it again. It had schlepped it a long way. But by now we are laughing and howling even louder in three different octaves. Surprise, delight, amazement – amusement... And in my case, a bit of Schadenfreude. See, what happens when stealing green apples?! Hurriedly the squirrel scrambles away. And now, I feel just a tiny bit sorry for its mishap. I am so used to the sight of squirrels carrying unripe apples somewhere else, to hide or to nibble on and abandon...

 In my Live Oak World now Lives a Dwarf She’s become my friend, despite belonging to the squirrel family :) ­ hard to believe. From the beginning I thought she was special, a cute new baby, but several weeks later she is still the same size – surprise – sailing along elegantly…. Her stunning agility makes her stand out even in squirrel world. I call her Silvana, woman of the woods. This morning as I am pruning the Elder, she came by for a chat, eyeing me flirtatiously as always, and then she went on to nibble at the neighbor's figs. Silvana’s curious gaze and her delicate physique remind me of the German grey squirrels I grew up with. Everyone thought they are cute. But here in California we are used to the huge monster squirrels, fattened up by endless food supply, ravaging our plums, apples and more. Every morning –­ through my bedroom cottage’s skylights – I see Silvana high in the oaks, going way out on limbs harvesting the last acorns, bouncing precariously at the very end of...

  Calling by Name   In 2008, I envisioned, designed and then build in close collaboration with a professional carpenter a tiny casita (10’ x 12’) with deck in our backyard. “A room of my own” under the beloved oaks. With skylights and windows on all sides so it would feel like a tree house. To my surprise, the project took on a life of its own. A new world opened up, a new life on the hill started to emerge. At that time, the canopies of the old coastal live oaks with their sculpted massive branches were still very dense, bringing much shade and cool. The four live oaks were forming an impressive far-reaching grove, including a huge cork oak and a tall incense cedar. Then the following spring, I design another cottage (10’ x 10’) as my bedroom. The adventure keeps unfolding, an irrepressible vision propels me. Did I ever really plan on all of this that is now manifesting? It feel as if destiny is guiding me.   Now, at this point, the hill going further up has to be stabil...

  Crossing Over I was going to write about wonder, awe, and joy, how it shows up for me in the small gestures of daily life, beholding the awe-inspiring leaps of a young squirrel,  drinking garden herb tea …  despite… despite… despite… about the short days in December, darkness, star light. Then this morning, in the New York Times, I come across the harrowing  guest essay by   Atef Abu Saif  titled  I Want to Be Awake When I Die .  He is  a writer and Minister of Culture in the Palestinian Authority, and lives in Ramallah on the West Bank. I have followed his recent diary entries in other publications. While reading my body starts shaking like the children whom he describes waiting in line when crossing from North to South Gaza as they evacuate. The taste of young bodily fear – not the one that we experience later in life swirling mostly in our heads, well contained. Human beings, young & old, in the violent throws of historical forces, ...

  Lebensfreude   mother & daughter pomegranate pair I am sure you have times like these, too. Feeling   amused & humored, chuckling, laughing – not just when in company, but also when alone. (Not to be confused with feeling lonely.) It’s the way the squirrel jumps, flies, and lands running along the branches high up in the oaks, mind-boggling – the swift surefooted acrobatics tickle me, make me gasp and giggle… Elegance, ease, and ferocious drive to build, find, hide, feed, explore.    For the past 6 years, living by myself, I’ll be laughing out loud when reading or listening to the radio, remembering long ago mishaps or watching an interaction on the street. Perhaps between dog and human, crow and hawk, or a car attempting to parallel park in vain. When out walking, I smile at people for no reason. Older folks moving slow will have all the time to smile back. Watching children busy playing by themselves, brings smiles. I find pleasure in a million small...

  Hawk Stories The other morning, breathing with my mother oak,  I arch my spine far backwards with arms stretched up, gazing into the canopy. Maybe twenty feet above me on one of the live oak’s sturdy bare branches, I spot a fuzzy big ball moving – wow, what is that? A big owl? (I am a bit shortsighted, but don’t wear glasses). Carefully walking up the stairs to get a better look, I recognize a bird of prey – a hawk. A couple of blue jays try to scare him away, screeching loudly, in vain. Hawk and me lock eyes for long moments. (What kind is it? Not a red-tailed hawk.) He continues to preen his plumage, fluffing up even more, and when shaking his expanded body, a cloud of small white feathers is released, drifting upwards on the light breeze. We spend maybe ten minutes eyeing each other. I marvel how camouflaged he is up there, not far from me, perched so well. At last, he flies off low, beating his beautifully marked wings fast, with whoosh-whoosh-whoosh melody….   Red-...

Life Always Loved Me Life always loved me – surely gave me everything needed, as baby absorbing parents’ hunger pain confusion helpless fear, Mama’s desperate fury Papa’s gentle absence, young and fierce survival bombs bullets catastrophe scarce rationed food no money ceiling crumbling, taught me sacrifice always I was in love with them and they have always loved me…   Whatever made me walk away seek new lands in München Kaulbachstrasse Paris New York Frankfurt Brazil Berlin Jerusalem Persia Italy Hawaii San Francisco North Berkeley – till I stopped running stayed firmly put falling in love with steep hill’s old talkative live oaks hawks participating watching me with care all places loved me and wrapped in awe I always loved them…   Yet home stays far away, removed so far hidden till I dare to be entranced by tender curious gaze of deer squirrel owl fox cat racoon opossum gopher coyote hummingbird hovering their eyes at times intensely gleaming with dreams improvising my basi...