San Miguel Mission

On Saturdays, I arrive a little early for mass so I can walk the grounds of the San Miguel Mission.  It is about 15 minutes down the road from me, and I much prefer it to the modern Catholic Churches that are a bit closer.  There are still friars living at the mission, so it is not entirely open to the public. You can see the lovely courtyard with a fountain and olive trees.

What is it about arches? 

There is an adorable girl about 10 years old who wears her hair in two long braids.  She smiles at me knowingly -- we have never spoken, but we are friends. There is a leathery farmer who sits behind me with his wife- wrinkled brown - his gaze shockingly bright. The Eucharistic minister wears cowboy boots.  And the Friar switches form English to Spanish as he extends the peace.
 

Cloisters always move me; perhaps because they make me think we are  going somewhere.

The first time there was a wedding going on and little girls in froufrou dresses were skipping through the cloister.  That day there were two barn owls sleeping in the nook above the arches -- I wish I had my camera. At the time, I felt sure I would see them again.  Maybe next time.

The colors washed out a bit -- the bench is a country orange.

The doorway to the church.

I love the imitation marble look -- all done with paint.

Sorry, I didn't want to use a flash and this was as clear as I could get it.

My sketch of the interior.

This is what I see driving to the Mission.  Ah, beauty!

Montana de Oro

I took an unexpectedly tootling  road to Montana de Oro.  It made Crooked Island Road of my childhood look like child's play.  Here is one of the lovely views I encountered on the curvy way.

Here is one of the paths to the ocean at Montana de Oro.

Okay, just a reminder for my East Coast friends, the beaches around here aren't warm.  The water is cold, and only tourists wear bathing suits.  I was not the only one dressed like this. Surfers wear wetsuits, and I don't know how they stand the cold with their hands and feet sticking out.

I walked a couple of miles along the coast and then climbed up the base of the cliff into a cleft and enjoyed myself, pulling out my notebook and writing for a while.

From where I sat the ocean looked navy blue -- mostly it was a bright teal.

I wanted so badly to climb to the top of this rock, and I was a good girl-- traveling by herself -- and restrained myself, so the kind people playing on the shore wouldn't have to take me to the emergency room.

This beach didn't have sand -- just stones that made a magical noise when the surf turned them over and over.

There was a whole hillside covered in orange nasturtium.

I didn't go on this trail because of the bobcat.

Don't feel too sorry for me.  I ate my dinner here by Morro Bay.  You can see the fog bank coming in.

Cambria

My friends left on Thursday,  and on Friday, I decided it was time to see the ocean.  I coupled my trip with a visit to a farmer's market.  I was a bit early for the market and walked the streets of the quaint little town lined with artist studios and antique shops.  I came across this bench and smiled -- if you have never read the poem "Endymoin" by Keats it is transporting truth.

I talked with the artist who created a rotating bronze sculpture for quite a while.  He has wandered and gone without for the state of his art, and he looks at it as all joy.  The sculpture is called "Always moving forward." He was so excited about my journey.

These first two photos are of the view I chanced upon when I was looking for a spot to eat my lunch: carrot ginger soup that I bought at the farmer's market. Unfortunately, I did not take a picture of the smiling girl who makes the soup or of the octogenarians who sold me two delicious avocados -- the grandmother picked them out special for me.

 There was  a lovely path along the coast with stretches of open space.

I encountered a few creatures along the path. The birds were not as easily photographed as this snake whose head was nicely hidden in a hole (no head, no biting).

I especially liked the hint of orange on the cliffs from the ground cover (which I believe is an invasive species).

I ended the evening with an amazing guitar concert at a small recording studio that I chanced upon when I went to the post office earlier in the day.  Hauntingly beautiful music by Robert Longley.