QUAIL MUTTERINGS #39. Isn’t February Too Early For Spring? (February 6, 2016)

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #39.  Isn’t February Too Early For Spring? (February 6, 2016)

What? Who says it’s Spring? The birds do! That’s who. Every morning the canyon wrens are singing merrily all around the house. Their melodic, descending trills provide the sound track of a new day dawning. The house finches dart back and forth between their numerous nests in the nooks and crannies of our log cabin and the budding bushes in the yard. I’ve noticed that the squirrels have also decided that winter is over and clamber up and down the granite boulders and in and out of holes in the ground. Life is good.
The other morning Kent and I drove up the hill to get a better view of the planetary alignment, only visible in the night sky shortly before dawn. We got out of the car and stared up at the sky. I stood in awe of how miniscule we really are. These five planets, perfectly aligned, are so far away, but yet are some of our closest neighbors. We are only one of so many planets. The differences and difficulties that we have here, with each other and with different global communities, seem absurd. Don’t they? None of that really matters in the big scheme of things. Gazing upward from the east toward the west there they shimmered. Mercury was the least visible being the closest to the horizon. Venus, a big bright beacon. Saturn. Mars, emitting a reddish hue. And Jupiter, the closest to setting but still hours away. We returned to the morning cacophony surrounding our front porch.
Only last week we had that big winter storm with the crazy winds that knocked out our power for eight hours. I dug out candles, lighting them in groups to provide more light in needed areas. Luckily, I’d made soup the day before and there were enough leftovers to heat on the stove for dinner. A quick open and close of the refrigerator was all that was needed to remove the pot. Not a good idea to let out that ever-so-valuable frigidness necessary to keep our food edible. Then we moved the candles to the living room where a fire burned in the fireplace emitting a soft glow which added to the limited light available. There’s nothing like a power outage to help us put on the brakes and take the time for relaxed conversation. I welcomed and relished the resulting magical ambiance.
A day later, work on our rock tiny house resumed. The building is evolving, taking on a persona of its own. Whereas most construction follows a set of plans and dictated schedules this thing suggests we stop and ponder. That’s fine with me. It’s one of my favorite things to do. It’s also the reason why I’ve changed my mind, more than once, over the desired end product. It’s gone from being just a simple bathroom/kitchenette to adding a small bedroom on the side. The whole thing is less than two-hundred square feet and occupies the site, and one of the rock walls, of my grandmother’s previous abode. The one that the Cedar Fire took away. Now more rock scavenging is needed. We scour the mountainsides for more of “my beauties” as I call them. A friend who’s doing the construction probably worries that I’ll change my mind again, but I am trying to work with each phase that it has progressed to. Sometimes it’s as if the canyon itself is providing the instructions.
These recent evenings, on my nightly excursions outside to whisper my gratitude, I’m enraptured by the eclectic symphony coming from down the creek, toward the pond further down the valley. The bullfrogs’ rhythmic bass, the toads’ melodic counterpoint and the crickets’ steady pulse provide the backdrop for a lone Poorwill singing further up the ridge. I can also hear a Great Horned Owl and a Western Screech-Owl on opposite walls of the canyon. The boulders shine magically in the moonlight and I am, once again, filled with reverence for all this life around me and my place in it.
Tomorrow will dawn a new day in which the Dance Centre will rehearse for our upcoming story ballet: A Star Studded Tea Party. It’s not a traditional tale, but one that is evolving. Similar to the way that the tiny house has come along. Between the advanced dancers and me collaborating together, it’s grown into a birthday party for Alice (in Wonderland). The Cheshire cat, the white rabbit, and the mad hatter all show up. And, of course, the big bad wolf. Why not, right? If you’d like to check out our twisty tale then come on over to the Performing Arts Center at Olive Peirce Middle School at 6:30 PM on April 15th. Don’t worry. The date’s easy to remember. It’s tax day!

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

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

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)

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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?

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.