I love to walk. The unexpected is around every corner. A pink rubbery heart placed on the trestle bridge scripted with the word “love” made me smile. As did the blindingly yellow spikes of an ice plant—one leaf was even striped!
Rounding a bluff, I looked down to see shimmering water scallop its way up the beach—the flattened waves edged in light.
I made my way down to the sand and was met by strange sights: a shapely cartilaginous blob, ocean-smoothed glass and a flat ribbon of seaweed seemingly growing out of a rock.
A feather floated like an airborne tree in a nearby tide pool. Far above, a real tree captured my attention with its tangled trunk—an inch worm measuring itself.
I followed the squawks of several ravens to a deceased stingray. Its emerging spines resembled stacks of shark teeth or celestial stars set into a fleshy pink sky. Nearly every stage of life and death was within eye’s reach.
I climbed back up the bluff and saw a shadow of my current self against time’s erosion. I am only here for a brief time. I want to pack as much wonder into myself as my body will allow. And when that’s full, I will sardine my spirit until it’s time to swim away.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Ever since we moved to Fort Bragg, I’ve wanted to walk down to Hare Creek Beach. I drive past it nearly every day, and can see a tiny trail along the creek as I cross the bridge over it on Highway One. There is also a permanent circular bench that looks quaint from a distance.
I had to cross a field that was strewn with garbage. Nearing the creek, I saw a bottle of ketchup and a jar of relish sitting atop a concrete post. As I approached the circular bench, plastic bags littered the seat, filled with who-knows-what. Is someone going jump out of the bushes and attack me? Yet I continued on.
That’s when I saw a chain link fence covered with colorfully painted fish. It appeared to be a community project done by a school group or some such entity. My trepidation swam away as I noted the fun, imaginative patterns on the wooden forms.
Before I knew it, I was out on the open beach with families laughing, children playing and dogs prancing about. Clumps of wildflowers grew in the sand and a shamrock seemed to wink at me from the center of a fallen log. I’m glad I didn’t turn back. After all, it’s always darkest before the dawn.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
As my husband and I enter the botanical gardens we are greeted by the lush purple-blues and hot pinks of hydrangea bushes. And what’s that between them…a rooster? Yes, the neighbor’s chickens are on the loose, once again, shredding and devouring nearby kale leaves.
There’s always a surprise here, whether it’s an unexpected carpet of flowers at my feet, or a dangling red lantern flower hanging from a tree above my head.
Anthers dance on a projectile of odd burgundy flowers, their yellow felt slippers curving and leaping down the stem.
Bees aren’t choosy about how large or small the bloom is as long as they can pack their pouches with pollen.
Dahlias curl into hypnotic spirals. A fly stops to rest on a petal. I flop onto the emerald grass—I’m dizzy with cacophonous colors and shifting shapes.
I eventually rise and discover a double calla lily—it normally has a single creamy petal. I call my husband over to take a peek. We clasp hands. One has become two and two are one. Vibrant life abounds.
At first the zebra seemed unreal—like a tongue-in-chic faux fur chair. Its stripes shouted: op art!
When another wandered up to join it I snapped a photo. The two heads seemed to merge into one, continuing the otherworldly feeling.
One of the creatures turned, and its ear suddenly looked like a horn—a zebra unicorn!
Riding in an antique jeep along a rutted road fed into the feeling that I was on safari.
As I looked out at a herd of antelope, I even saw isolated trees, tall dry grass and dusty patches of dirt reminiscent of the African veldt.
But the continuous biting wind and dream-like fog presenting itself in the dead of summer reminded me I was on the Mendocino coast at the B Bryan Preserve in Point Arena. And I wasn’t exactly on safari—I was merely viewing these hoofed African mammals, some of which are endangered, from a safe distance. The goal of the preserve is to breed, study and conserve these precious animals. Although I yearned to interact with them, it simply wasn’t prudent, nor allowed.
Until we reached a group of Rothschild’s giraffes and I was given a handful of sweet potato slices to feed them. As I put a slice in my mouth and was “kissed” by my first giraffe, I felt a spiritual connection. Imagination had merged with reality and the result was an ecstatic thrill. How can harnessing our imaginations enhance our spiritual lives?
The thrill of capturing the bee in flight made my own heart flutter. I was drawn to the firecracker frenzy of the red hot poker, her cha-cha skirt’s fringe flailing. But the bee was a bonus—I didn’t even see him coming. We were both intoxicated by the bright, beckoning colors.
The pleasure of life met my eyes everywhere I looked: A snail slime-ing along a calla lily leaf. Pouty-lipped twin flowers bobbing in the breeze. There was even a bloom that looked like an umbrella blown inside out.
And then my reverie ended. A dead skink lay in the grass, his life cut short by a lawnmower. He was simply going about his daily business when it happened, out of the blue. My brother-in-law died this week, too, without warning. He was just getting ready for his day, as usual, when he had a heart attack. He was gone before the paramedics arrived. He wasn’t old.
What does one do when confronted with such sudden death? Live. It’s our best option.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Botanical gardens are Eden-like. They astound, perplex and fascinate. Their lushness draws us in, their unbelievably odd plants keep us engaged and their labyrinthine paths keep us wandering until exhaustion sets in.
The Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens deliver all of the above, plus butt up against the ocean for spectacular views. Clumps of colorful flowers cling to the cliffs inspiring alliteration.
Alien forms protrude, curl, billow and thrust.
The ground is littered with floral confetti, and strange lanterns hang with bulbous tongues sticking out.
Silky, delicate petals encircle a veined sunburst, while a whirling dervish of succulent lime-green leaves bursts forth in an explosion of buds. White cactus flowers open their fringe, dwarfing their prickly bodies.
Just when I think I’ve seen the most bizarre plant, I come to a muted rainbow of pebbles—no, they are fat, stone-like leaves. And next to them, on a tall cactus stalk, hairy pink throats cough out tiny yellow blossoms. Red buds open to reveal quadruple layers of pointy petals. The interior holds a dancer with many arms amid stars of pollen. Have I rediscovered Eden?
While walking in a field of grass I noticed an interesting little flower. I crouched down to take a closer look. I had never seen anything like it: half frilly clover, half monkey-faced snapdragon.
At once I was nosing the ground and spied a red-throated coral flower lifting its face above a series of tiny, spiky yellow blooms. Minuscule white stars on narrow, jointed stems balanced over clover leaves. Pointy lavender balls poked above dandelion tails.
As I crawled along, more and more flowers I had never seen revealed themselves. I felt as though I had entered a miniature world where a secret garden was blooming amid commonplace grass. I discovered flowers within flowers—the centers of taxicab-yellow daisies were bursting with additional blooms.
I recognized a lupine, but not its curved, freckled cap. How can it be so blue? It leaned towards a magenta “weed” I’d seen before. But at eyelash-touching range, this “weed” appeared as a slender flowering tree, clusters of fringed petals nodding with the slightest breeze. And right next door, puffy white blooms swirled, washed in lavender and held by fuzzy, wine-hued gloves.
As I passed dainty pink pansy-like faces and petal-less flowers resembling eyeballs on stalks, I realized I regularly trample these wonders because this miniature world is underfoot.
I felt slightly agitated when I began my walk. The day had gotten away from me and it was almost dinner time, but I felt if I didn’t squeeze in the time now, I would lie in bed that night, full of regret.
A yellow jacket caught my eye and seemed to say: hey, what about me? I’ll go. And a honey bee on a matilija poppy offered to stop collecting pollen for a while to imbibe some sweet tea.
A cluster of fuchsia joined in the fun as chandeliers, their intense color adding to the radiant glow, while a silvery green carpet of tightly packed miniature gazania leaves provided a soft, spongy place to rest.
The final attendees were the most bristly of all—spiny cactus, a thorny-stemmed plant and barbed pine cones. They reminded me that only minutes before I was grumpy, prickly to the touch. It may not have been the dinner I was planning, but the lesson sure was sweet.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 