Blue Skies; Sparkly Night

Living near the ocean, Sutro Park and the Presidio, in the early afternoons I often watch this huge bird hovering over the trees that are the Bonsais of the Sutro. He never moves a muscle, rides the waves of the air currents and stiff winds off the ocean like a kite managing to stay in one spot as if held in place by an invisible string. I wonder what he’s thinking? Is he surveying the majestic view of nature below him, or is he looking for dinner. He never dives downward so I like to think that he is enjoying the view.

The histories that are all around here record that much of what we see is not natural to this place. The ocean, cliffs, weather and sky are of course. But, the trees, grass cover and flowers were imported by humans dreaming of how to make this place even more lovely. Dreaming of how to protect the gentle nature of the cliffs from erosion. The trails, steps down the cliff, ocean view outlooks, restaurants and statues are placed here by humans dreaming and brought to reality by effort. Their dream makes it easier for us to feast eyes and pallets with little effort.

Histories record how those dreams were often obliterated by natural disasters and nightmares of humans brought to reality. I wonder if that huge, hovering bird has lived through many eons? Does he remember the Sutro Baths before they became just a footprint of a dream? How I’d loved to have seen its heyday. Does he recall the Sutro mansion and adjoining edifices before they became lovely ruins where romantics stroll to be married? Maybe he hovers over the present scene to enjoy it to its fullest before it becomes a footprint? I wonder.

I know how he feels. When I sleep I dream I am floating above it too. Drinking it in, smelling it all, loving it as it stands now in its beauty before it becomes a footprint. I love those footprints inside footprints that note times past, and I revel in improvements to dreams that tend to include more of the masses than those that went before. I wish that I’d grown up here. What a place for a child to roam and thrive! I am grateful to be here now in San Francisco, transplanted just like the trees and flowers.

Ta Ta for now San Francisco.

I am going to lie in my comfy bed, with screenless windows cracked to let in the cool ocean breeze and dream of floating above the huge Bonsais surveying the footprints and beauty below me like the hovering bird. But, lo tomorrow I’ll be flying with my bird’s eye camera to record the these places while they remain. Oh, happiness is now.