I hobble up the back stairs and peek through the window blinds of this second-story office building this morning to view another smacking sunrise over the Monterey Bay. My camera would capture only a fraction of this yellow-gold radiance, framed by the purple edge of the Big Sur mountain range beyond the Pacific Grove peninsula. The sight stirs me to want to always be an early riser, as much as a sunset lover desires to come to the edge of the sea at the end of the day to celebrate.
In a few days I go to my beach house retreat to watch over a pair of golden doodles for a week. The reality is that it is them watching over me. I sit to read and they sit to watch me read. If they could talk, they would probably ask me why I am in their owners’ house. The view of the Monterey Bay from that vantage point is beyond any other, as the house is planted on a point of land that juts out more than the other homes that rim the coast line, so I can see north and south and all points in between, and then upwards into heaven some. It looks as if the mortgage crisis with the banks has done in these owners, however, who may have to walk away from this venerable old European-style home, and retreat to their desert home within a few short months. We will see.
The banking and economic mess seems to have hit particularly hard among those who possessed something worth hanging on to. Since I never had much anyhow, a position I chose long ago, after being coached by Thoreau in my early adult years, much of the turmoil I see going on about me is something I have not had to experience in any meaningful depth. Maybe now that we are in an election year, this 2012, politicians will spruce up the economy somewhat, to make us all believe we once again have healthy pocket books and a predictable, rosy future.
Dinner last night: a bowl of reduced guilt popcorn, while sitting in front of my new fireplace. It is reduced guilt because of low salt and no butter.