QUAIL MUTTERINGS #38. Gather, Jam and Dine (December 2015)

Posted on December 13, 2015 by chivarnado

Drum roll. Rum pum pum pum. The Winter Solstice approaches as the days become shorter and winter officially begins. Lights twinkle along roof lines and stores are crammed full of holiday merchandise for the hungry consumers. Jingle, jingle tinkle the bells signaling the Salvation Army’s donation buckets strategically placed in high foot traffic areas. In our canyon, the clear nights are already winter-time chilly beneath an explosion of twinkling stars which somehow seem brighter this time of year. I can see my breath during my early morning run and my ears feel like ice cubes fastened to the sides of my head.
My grandmother always got swept up in the holidays by baking a dozen or so varieties of Christmas cookies, each tucked into its own large tin stacked with the others on the dining room floor. Once winter break started and Bamoo would have the two weeks off from teaching school, she’d begin her frantic endeavor making coffee cakes for all the relatives. Sometimes I’d walk down the dirt road to her cabin and help. I loved kneading the aromatic, yeasty dough and then rolling out the stretchy plumpness on the bread board. Brown sugar, cinnamon and citron (which I couldn’t stand so I’d leave out on ours) would get sprinkled onto the flat, buttered surface and then rolled up and formed into a ring. This would then be allowed to rise for a second time in the toasty warm kitchen heated by the wood-burning stove. On Christmas Eve she’d deliver her savory beauties to a many family members speckled around the county. It was her own legacy and everyone looked forward to enjoying them on Christmas morning.
These days, we still heat our log cabin with a wood-burning stove. I feel some things from days gone by are better than the new, less simple, modern contraptions. I rather miss the days when we didn’t all seem to expect instant gratification. Being out here, nestled in the back of a rural canyon, away from pavement and shopping malls, is most likely what draws people to our unique homestead. We’re listed on the Airbnb website as a ‘nature lover’s paradise’. Most of our guests seem to come from Los Angeles or Orange County wanting to get away from it all for a little rest and relaxation. And perhaps a hike in the hills.
The week before Thanksgiving the clothing company, Tilly’s, booked our place for their ‘Spring Wear’ photo shoot. The models, organizers and photographers spent three days clamoring over boulders, balancing on stacks of firewood, petting the horses and examining the natural flora. All the while trying to look natural in a somewhat foreign, at least to them, rural environment. Most of them were completely out of their element and had never experienced any place like this before. Good for them, I thought. I hope some of the natural environment seeped into their beings and created a space for more of this. And a deeper appreciation of nature and a glimpse into a different way of life.
I think back to last December when The Dance Centre put on The Nutcracker. All the students assumed their roles well and enjoyed performing for the enthusiastic audiences. This is an every other year event, making this an ‘off year’. But that means we get to perform a new story ballet this spring so the discussion has begun regarding what it might be. A traditional story ballet? A fairy tale turned into a ballet? A new story or perhaps a twist on an old fable? We’ll see.
So, without The Nutcracker festivities, along with not having children at home anymore, I don’t seem to have the energy to put up a tree and decorate. And I am especially not inclined to want to take it all down and put it away. It feels like so much work for such a small amount of time to appreciate it. But, I guess one could argue the same point against story ballets. I guess for me, though, the studio’s productions touch so many people in a variety of ways. Whether you’re a performer, a parent or a spectator the take aways are diverse. It’s visual, auditory, kinesthetic and a multitude of other experiences.
I believe I’ll take a simpler approach this year and host a drumming circle. What better way to celebrate the old and bring in the new year than to get together with friends, make music and share good food? Let’s gather, jam and dine!

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Chi directs the Ramona Dance Centre. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #37. The Importance of Giving Back (October 16, 2015)

Posted on October 17, 2015 by chivarnado

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #37. The Importance of Giving Back (October 16, 2015)

Life is short so make it count. Don’t be a sponge on society. Pull your weight. Be all that you can be. OR. Just hang loose. Relax. Be happy. Chill out, man. What is one to actually do? Nose to the grindstone or just sit back and watch life go by? Of course, it’s a little of both. After all, isn’t life all about balance – both in and out of the dance studio? Sorry, but most of my life has centered around the dance studio so I couldn’t help but bring that into play. And what about the whole “giving back” thing, when we’re so swamped with earning a living and raising families?
I’ve been lucky. My work/career has included ‘giving’ extra time and attention to students and parents. All teachers, both during and out of class, provide their time and counsel. No question. The ‘volunteering’ is simply built into the job as well as the “time off.” A teenage student needs advice on keeping up with a demanding academic schedule while making class and rehearsals. And perhaps a job on top of that. A parent is frustrated with her child’s rebelliousness at home and wonders how they’re managing in class. But it can be a win/win for the instructor since besides providing a service it also feels good and is rewarding to be helpful to others.
At this point, in the last half of my sixth decade, after raising three children but still working more than one job, I sense the need to give back more. But it has to feel like the right thing somehow. Something important and satisfying to my soul. So when I was asked to be a docent for Ramona Grasslands, I said yes. I’ve been a San Diego County Parks and Recreation volunteer patrol for over a decade and have already been vetted for the position. We’ll be leading people into an unopened segment of the Grasslands in groups for hikers, bicyclists or trail riders depending on the Saturday. We’ll need to study the County’s management plan and brush up on our knowledge of local vegetation, wildlife and geology. Great! Just what I have time for. I’d planned on taking a French class this fall, but I guess that will go on hold. I’ll try to fit in my study of the Grasslands when I can and hope for the best.
On September 26th we did a training hike to learn the route and to gather information about the area. The journey is three miles in and three miles out. A total of six miles traversed in the middle of the day, in close to hundred degree heat. We did it though, returning in our sopping wet county issued shirts.
As our group walked through the shade of ancient oak trees, the bulls in the pasture eye-balled us suspiciously. We were careful to give them a wide berth. Cattle have been grazing on this property for over a century The old Gildred homestead boasts a solitary chimney rising up out of an old slab. Supposedly, the house had burned down from a Thanksgiving kitchen fire. At least that was what one of the rangers had heard. Acorn grinding holes speckle the nearby granite boulders. Someone pointed out the cactus. Apparently, they are commonly found near these native work sites. The old survey road continues west where I noticed a vein of granite along an east/west lying ridge. I wondered if those boulders had quartz embedded in them, like we have in our canyon. Up on a hill to the south, a flat area with pushed out dirt is visible. They used to mine molybdenite there at the Bours Deposit. It was shut down in 1918. Further along, also to the south, across a dry gorge, sheer cliffs rise upward. We’re told this creek will echo loudly if we get an El Nino this year. Another docent pointed out an old eagle’s nest near the top of this rock face.
Our community of Ramona is so fortunate to live in such a rich, natural environment. We all owe it to future generations to preserve this legacy. Besides being wild and beautiful, nature is essential for all of our survival. This is a more than worthwhile cause. It is absolutely necessary. We need to get our kids, neighbors and families outside to play and learn in the dirt. Real dirt. Not just what’s hauled in for playgrounds.
I’m looking forward to October 31st when I’ll lead my first hike back into this northwest segment of the Ramona Grasslands. I understand that anyone interested in coming along can sign up on the San Diego County Parks and Recreation website. This ‘giving back’ feels partly the other way around to me. I get to come out here and take a walk in nature with others who want to do the same. Yes indeed. It’s a win/win for all of us. Doing something important and sharing with each other. For our own lives, and for life in general, isn’t it all really about the balance of nature?

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #36. An Imperfect Wedding (July 13, 2015)

Posted on July 13, 2015 by chivarnado

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #36. An Imperfect Wedding (July 13, 2015)

There’s that saying about when bad things happen: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I can lean one way or the other depending on the situation, but I still pretty much straddle the fence on that one. One thing is clear though, life is full of those events which can fall into that category. For each and every one of us. Often there is some sliver of a silver lining even if it’s obscured, delayed or presents itself years later in an altered attitude in some distantly related way.
Our beloved canyon was, once again, home to a beautiful wedding between Kali and Edwin. Months of planning and extensive yard work occupied us yet again. Two years ago, Jessie and Sean tied the knot here, providing the stage for her sister and his cousin to kindle their romance. Several of us had noticed the two of them, rocking chairs pushed close together on the front porch. Getting to know each other after the main festivities were winding down.
The magical day arrived on Saturday as our log cabin bustled with the bridal party and helping friends and relatives. Kent and I did our best trying to keep ahead of the game: providing food and scrambling under the avalanche of details, crossing things off our own list of things to get done and adding new ones as they presented themselves. Two hours before ‘Show Time’ our parking attendants were already directing cars up the side of the canyon to the cleared fields. But the flowers had not arrived yet. The bridal bouquets and boutonnieres were to be delivered by the florist at noon and it was now after 12:30.
The photographers wove through the house arranging varying groups of individuals together for digital preservation. The loft was strewn with the remnants of the morning’s hair and make-up scene, furniture pushed aside to make room for artful gatherings of the bridesmaids. Out front, a few guests milled around under the oaks listening to the music coming from the speakers of Kali’s dad’s band.
An hour later, the flowers still had not arrived. Kali had just confirmed with the florist two days before and everything had been set. She’s extremely organized and on top of things. Nikki, my assistant; my sister, Bo; and Jessie and I brainstormed and made phone calls as we were getting dressed. I then decided to get Susan and Dina to pick up whatever they could find on their way back from town. The two of them had already spent all morning decorating the split-rail fence as well as the front porch entry and had gone back to the motel to shower and change. Of all the people involved, Susan would be the one most likely able to pull this off on such short notice. The minutes ticked by as we continued to get ready while trying to not appear too concerned – for Kali’s sake.
It was now ‘Show Time,’ but still, no flowers. I know it’s not a huge deal in the scheme of life, but we were finding it more and more difficult to simply smile and enjoy the moment. When I called Susan again they were just leaving the store. I sent Bo out to grab our cousins and my artist friend Helen, who was also serving as the officiator for the ceremony, joined the flower team. I asked Kent and Chance to meet Susan and Dina as soon as they drove in as I laid out scissors and leftover ribbons and accessories on the dining room table. Nikki apologized to the guests and explained the reason for our delayed start.
Kali came into the kitchen holding an assorted bouquet of fresh-cut, colorful flowers. “Look what Edwin gave me. He wandered around the yard and picked them himself. They’re perfect.” She carefully wiped her tears with the corner of a tissue, touched by her soon-to-be- husband’s thoughtfulness.
“They’re beautiful!”
“I wish my husband would do that for me.”
“That’s the most meaningful bouquet of flowers.”
“Far better than a florist would do…” We all shared the specialness of the moment.
“This is what you’ll remember,” I told her.
Helen added, “You have to have at least one thing go wrong at a wedding or it’s bad luck.”
Susan and Dina stormed in the door and the group sprang into action. As they arranged, clipped, pinned and tied ribbons I pointed out to Deborah, Sean’s mom and the groom’s aunt, the number of actual working artists in that magical circle surrounding the table. It wasn’t exactly an assembly line, but the creative efficiency was miraculous to witness.
Better late than never, we sashayed in to Vivaldi’s The Four Season’s, down the aisle on the wood chippings and found our seats. Edwin and his best man danced in to The Imperial March, Darth Vader’s theme, and laughter erupted. And then we all stood when Kali and seven-year-old- Ian came down together to A Thousand Years played by The Piano Guys, bringing tears to our eyes.
A special seat was left vacant, except for some flowers, for those special, close relatives who had passed on before this very special day. Hopefully, they too felt included in this blending of our families. I was struck by how beautifully elegant and simple the bridesmaids’ uncluttered, white flowers were. So appropriate, I thought, for this occasion. And Kali’s special, hand-picked by the groom, bridal bouquet. An unexpected upgrade had come out of the failed, best-laid plans to create an even better image to deposit into our memory banks.
Three of us: Edwin’s two aunts, Lori and Deborah, and I read special passages. Kali, Edwin and Helen performed a sand ceremony layering the different colors into a glass frame. Ian took his rightful spot joining his mom and Edwin in the pact. They had written their own vows and, of course, more tears. And laughter.
The band played. Tacos were served. Hilarious, tear-jerking toasts were made. For about an hour several of us searched, off and on, for the missing garter. Again, not a huge deal in the scheme of things, but another funny little glitch in an amazingly well planned wedding. By this time, Kali really didn’t care, as someone had handed her a left-over ribbon to use in lieu of. It was finally discovered by two members of the bridal party, in the dumpster, still wrapped in its zip-locked bag. Another one for the memory banks.
Earlier, during dinner, while talking with a long-time family friend, I watched as one end of our split-rail fence toppled over after one of the groom’s cousins had attempted to vault over it after being summoned by the photographer. I turned away shaking my head, not wanting to see the damage. I turned back to watch Kent prop it back up.
“You know, Chi,” my friend said. “You really have a blessed life.”
I studied her face and thought about it. “I guess I do,” I answered. “I have a pretty bitchin’ life.” I looked around and surveyed the scene. Friends and family eating, talking and laughing together. At peace under the oak tree canopy.