Busy Day in Los Angeles

Santa Monica, California

Maybe it is a luxury of familiarity to guiltlessly use it as an excuse for sleeping in, or are we just lazy? I prefer blaming it on growing older, but then again, admitting that age might be playing a role could convince me that the passage of time is indeed occurring while I try to maintain the illusion that it’s waiting on me. In some sense, time is waiting on my arrival, ready to place me in its past after my run is over.

Fortunately, this morning was not yet my moment to find the exit, and so, without further ado, Caroline and I jumped in the car and drove toward the ocean. Too early for breakfast, which begins at 8:00, we parked in front of the café of our dreams and walked a mile to the sea looming in the distance. I snapped this photo of the mother of St. Augustine of Hippo, a.k.a. Santa Monica, to note the start of our day in Southern California, and then we made our way back up Wilshire Boulevard.

Huckleberry Cafe in Santa Monica, California

Everything about this visit to the Los Angeles area is a luxury; no matter how low cost we try to keep things, there’s no being cheap here. Believe it or not, our motel is on the inexpensive side at $165 a night. Breakfast, on the other hand, doesn’t allow for skimping: although alternatives exist, we were not going to miss eating at Huckleberry Cafe even though we spent $81 for the first meal of the day.

Whoa, I hope that was for more than a pastry and cup of coffee, John? Well, as a matter of fact, we each had the Huckleberry signature breakfast of bacon and eggs with avocado, potatoes, and the most amazing homemade English muffin ever, in addition to a pastry each and a lemon scone that Caroline ordered to go. Mind you, the food charge was only $68 with a 20% tip of $13, bringing the grand total to the aforementioned sum.

Maybe I did this backward, talking about the price before explaining why we return to this café again and again. We love everything about this place, the incredible quality with extraordinary attention to detail that creates an experience worth indulging in as often as we can.

Caroline Wise in the surf in Santa Monica, California

While the idea of a nap was calling, beckoning, pleading, for us to return to whatever residual warmth might have remained in the bed we left 90 minutes earlier, we were not giving in because the vastness and gravity of the Pacific Ocean were tugging at our senses.

The only fixed appointment on the itinerary for this visit from Arizona was a 10:00 reservation at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, down the road from Malibu. With time to spare, we pulled up to the ocean for a walk on the beach. Not only was Caroline able to play in the surf barefoot, but we also saw a few cormorants holding out their wings to dry while at least one seal hung out on a distant rock.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Here we are at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades for our second visit ever. As of this writing, I can’t say when the last one was as I couldn’t find a record of that trip on my blog, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t been here; it only implies that I can be sloppy in my vigilance of always sharing everything. Then again, this isn’t a blog of the erotic, so that’s not here either, though as you scroll down, there had been an ancient wine bowl featuring a copulating couple, but in my effort to reduce the number of images from 65 down to 35 out of the 376 photos I shot over the course of the entire day meant that one was one that fell to the ax.

J. Paul Getty, upon building his Spanish-style ranch overlooking the Pacific Ocean, may have not yet known that his art collection would outgrow his home. His former residence today serves as a museum library, but the rest of the grounds were developed to house part of his collection. I say a “part of his collection” because even more of his stuff is over at The Getty, which is only about 8 miles away.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

After walking along the pool and fountains and admiring the lush gardens, the first piece that greeted us indoors was this sculpture from the Cycladic period, estimated to be about 5,000 years old. The artist is obviously unknown, but I can’t help but be impressed by the idea that I will likely never create something so enduring with such a fine hand and eye interpreting the essence of a moment out of my own contemporary history. Just as the well-worn marble of this sculpture conveys its own story, I’ll use my page to once again share my own well-worn story about the disdain for all those humans around me who are happy to do much of nothing aside from consuming the banal culture of television, video games, and celebrity.

Art by Peter Paul Rubens at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Around 1620, Peter Paul Rubens painted this work titled A Satyr Holding a Basket of Grapes and Quinces with a Nymph. If anyone cares, I believe this satyr is a proto-hipster who has been defining men’s appearance for the past ten years.

Art by Peter Paul Rubens at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

This enchanting work is also from Rubens. There’s so much going on, and in some ways, it is quite psychedelic. Titled The Discovery of the Infant Erichthonius, it features an infant with serpent legs, but it is the depiction of Diana of Ephesus in the top right that really captured my attention. Caroline informed me that Diana has often been depicted with dozens of breasts, so maybe Rubens, only including five of them, is denying us viewers the truth. Caroline couldn’t have cared less about the boobs; she wanted to know what that blond, mulleted man was doing with his left hand. [After revisiting the story of Erichthonius, I must concede that mullet-man is actually the third daughter of Cecrops; hips don’t lie after all. – Caroline]

Art by Peter Paul Rubens at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

This is the last piece from Rubens I’ll feature here; it is titled Death of Seneca. According to the placard that accompanies this painting, containing some things I should have been taught in school: Seneca was a tutor of Emperor Nero, and the idea behind this work is that Seneca has been sentenced to commit suicide and is being slowly bled out into the tub.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Hello Jupiter, tell me how yer doing. That’s right when I think of sculptures of gods named after planets, the summer of 1990 jumps into my conscious with the lyrics of Dr. Alban singing from Sweden about his motherland Nigeria and Africa. If you weren’t listening to Euro-pop back in the early 90s, you probably have no idea what I’m referencing by Jove. Would you know about the Roman King of the Gods, either?

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Fragment of a sarcophagus with a visualization of the story from the Myth of Endymion, the shepherd prince.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Bear with me for a second on this one. This bronze, nearly 2,000-year-old eagle statue might have been the iPhone or Tesla of its day. What I mean to say is that if you were a foreign visitor arriving in Rome a couple of thousand years ago and you’d never seen such bronze works, this would have been the height of technological and artistic creativity. We humans, in my opinion, appear to believe that the era we are living in is the most complex and advanced society that has yet existed, but why should we begin to think that every preceding culture wasn’t experiencing the exact same sentiment? I can only imagine the sense of awe that other Neanderthals must have felt more than 60,000 years ago when one of them, after carving four holes in a young cave bear’s thigh bone, blew air through this early flute and those present fell into astonishment that they had come so far.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Earlier, I wrote of J. Paul Getty’s home and of the grounds where his art is housed well; this museum is an inspired replica of the Villa dei Papiri (Villa of Papyruses) in Naples, Italy, that was buried by Mount Vesuvius in A.D. 79, preserving much of what lay hidden for centuries. This fresco is but one small section taken during excavation when treasures would simply be taken and sold with little regard to preserving artifacts in situ.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Meet the feet of the Mummy of Herakleides. Why would an Egyptian burial process be featured in a museum that seems to be focusing on all things Roman Empire? You can look at an old map of that empire and either refresh or memory or learn that a large part of Egypt fell under the Roman Empire. This burial happened just before Christianity put an end to the process of mummification, or so that’s the way I understand it.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

History sure opens doors in my mind as this statue that is possibly that of Tiberius of Star Trek fame…you know, James T. Kirk? Oh my, I think I just heard my wife groan as she proofreads this in the near future. Okay, Emperor Tiberius, prior to acquiring his title, suppressed rebels in Dalmatia (modern Croatia), where this statue was found not far from the ruins of Solana (near present-day Split).

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

I don’t own a silver drinking horn, but if I did, I tend to think I’d prefer one with a hybrid praying mantis crossed with a scorpion locked in an embrace with the eagle in the photo above. Considering this, I realize I don’t even own a single thing that’s 2,000 years old or even 200 years old, though I do own a copy of a book printed in 1959, which is not really a good foundation for building my own museum.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Balsamarium in the form of a boxer’s head, a balsamarium is a vessel containing oil. This bronze container is approximately 2,000 years old, triggering the idea that the golden age of Rome must have been about 400 years before its fall.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Various Roman bronze dishes from 1 – 79 AD.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Orpheus and the Sirens floating out of the underworld.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

We look upon this Volute Krater (vessel for mixing wine and water) featuring Apollo and Artemis from 2,500 years ago, and we immediately understand its historic and artistic value, but if I were to break out my terracotta-vase-making kit and paint a naked me on it along with Caroline working her sprang loom while our cat (now deceased) looked on with curiosity, I don’t believe anyone would find artistic merit to it; such is art. I should point out that my painting skills amount to poor outline drawings, maybe half a step beyond stick people, so I would obviously have to accept rejection.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Excuse me, ladies, might you be the Sirens? If so, please dash my brain upon the rocks at the shore as this thing in my head that chose to share so many images from this day is approaching a state of dysfunction and betrayal.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

These instructions for the underworld inscribed on a gold tablet from about 300 BC reads:

(Initiate) I am parched with thirst and perishing!

(Spring) Then come drink of me, the Ever-Flowing Spring, on the right–a white cypress is there. Who are you? Where are you from?

(Initiate) I am the son of Earth and Starry Heaven. But my race is heavenly.

Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

To put it simply, this is being shared as a reminder to my wife how much she liked the plump little fat rolls that added a sense of realism for her.

Ancient Assyrian reliefs at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

The Royal Lion Hunt is the name given to this Assyrian relief sculpture that is approaching its 3,000th birthday. This and the following pieces are on loan from the British Museum, London.

Ancient Assyrian reliefs at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Protective Spirits.

Ancient Assyrian reliefs at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Detail from the above panel stems from Nineveh and is believed to have been created during the reign of Ashurbanipal, the last great king of Assyria.

Ancient Assyrian reliefs at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California

Blending man, beast, and bird, the artists of what was then the largest empire on earth had no shortage of imagination or skills needed to create such beautiful, long-lasting works that only hint at their worldview. After taking in just about every square inch of the Getty Villa, it was time for a break to rest our now-aching feet. We found a table on the terrace of the Museum Café where I was able to write, and Caroline knitted while we shared a coffee and sparkling water in a fancy blue bottle. When we left, it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we decided to squeeze in a new-to-us destination.

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

Welcome to the South Coast Botanical Garden on the Palos Verdes Peninsula. This is no ordinary garden, though; in many ways, that’s exactly what it looks like. We are standing atop a former mine that was sold in 1956 to Los Angeles County, which used it as a landfill until 1961. April of that year saw the first planting of trees that would become an integral part of this botanical garden which now plays host to more than 200,000 plants and has had Prince Charles visit to learn about the reclamation efforts invested here. Today, it’s John and Caroline who will walk these grounds hoping to discover some toy or soup can working its way through the earth for us to find.

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

This is a Paperbark Tree originally from Australia

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

The next tree to capture my attention is this White Floss Silk Tree native to Peru and Argentina. I can’t admit to understanding its name and feel it would make more sense if it were called Fat Elephant Limbs With Fuck-Off Spikes.

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

That Fat Elephant tree has some nice-looking flowers, though.

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

No, this tree is not called Tree With Poop Pods; it is the Lace Bark Tree.

South Coast Botanical Garden at the Palos Verdes Estates, California

This is Angel’s Trumpet and is from the Datura family, meaning it should never be consumed because if it doesn’t kill you, you might wish you were dead instead of suffering the disturbing hallucinations it’s said to have.

As an experiment in reclamation, the South Coast Botanical Garden is an amazing example, but as far as Southern California gardens go, we’ll stick with the Descanso and Huntington Gardens. Barely 10 miles away is our dinner destination, and after missing lunch, we’re plenty hungry as the garden is closing here at 5:00. [While John makes it sound as if the South Coast Botanical Garden is “less than,” one should keep in mind that not only is Winter not exactly the best time to visit a botanical garden in the Northern Hemisphere, we were also here in the hour before sunset which didn’t really help its appearance. In addition, several garden sections were closed off because of “Glow,” which features creative lighting arrangements between the trees and shrubs and other nighttime entertainment. Unfortunately, we hadn’t been aware of Glow, and while we were somewhat tempted to hide between the shrubs to avoid having to leave and get new tickets for the event, our hungry stomachs told us differently. – Caroline]

Caroline Wise at San Pedro Fish Market, California

San Pedro Fish Market is a hopping lively place, even in a pandemic. Not an inexpensive affair but worth every penny for the price of entry. You are looking at $96 of shrimp fajitas with peppers, onion, and potatoes, garlic bread, lemons, corn, shrimp cocktail, and a michelada. While we barely touched the garlic bread, nearly everything else disappeared because this restaurant on the harbor never disappoints. Another point worth noting, we ordered the “cheap plate” as it was just the two of us. Had we added a whole fish, a small lobster, and a few crab legs, we could have easily spent a few hundred dollars feasting here, and it is serious feasting at its best.

Elvis impersonator at San Pedro Fish Market, California

All of our previous visits had been early in the day, just as they opened, to avoid the worst of the crowds. Well, that turned out to be a flaw in our planning because, at least on Saturday nights, they feature karaoke, including this guy rocking a solid Elvis impersonation. A kid no older than about ten did a mean Montell Jordan as he stomped between the tables with a mic in hand, telling us This Is How We Do It.

From the San Pedro Fish Market, California at night

This view of the harbor is our departing shot as we look back at Terminal Island, enchanted that we have experienced a perfect day.

1st Trip of 2022 – Los Angeles

Arizona desert off Highway 10

While parts of America shiver with the onset of winter and others recover from the holidays, Caroline and I are off taking our first trip of 2022. We are traveling west across the Arizona desert to an old, familiar place.

Caroline Wise and John Wise on the California State Line

Yep, right into California we drove, and what a long drive it’ll be, or so it felt. It was 3:45 p.m., just moments before this selfie, and though we just shaved an hour off our time because entering the Pacific Time Zone jumped us back to 2:45, it would be nearly 9:00 p.m. before reaching our lodging over near Santa Monica.

California desert off Highway 10

Like the romance of yore, we travel west into the sunset after a quick stop for a snack at Popeye’s Louisiana Kitchen in Blythe, along with coffees from Starbucks, as the convenience of modern adventures should be fully indulgent. For those who know about our reading books while we head down the highway, Caroline continued with a blog from someone who’s summarizing Marcel Proust’s In Search Of Lost Time to ensure that we are getting all we can from this reading of such a long book. It’s unlikely we’ll be able to afford a second reading of this 1.2-million-word tome. After catching up with the summary to the end of book 1, we returned to the novel, of which there are still six more volumes to go.

Caroline Wise at Mix Bowl in Pomona, California

I’ll have to don my hypocrite hat for this admission. Coming from “Mr. Contradiction,” who is forever telling anyone who’ll listen to my ad nauseam repetitions of do-as-I-say advice, here we are stopping at Mix Bowl off Indian Hill Blvd in Pomona, California, which, according to a 2019 report, is only one of 29,560 restaurants in the greater Los Angeles area. But we keep going back; why, though? It’ll hurt my fingers to admit this as I type it out: nostalgia plays a large role. Some 25 years ago, we stumbled upon this place when it was named Big Bowl (legal problems forced the name change); well, we loved it so much we returned on subsequent visits and now seem to need to stop at least once on the way in or out of Southern California. We did “Mix” it up this visit, though, by ordering two new dishes out of three.

Wilshire Motel in Los Angeles

This is our little bungalow motel on Wilshire Blvd we’ve stayed at maybe a dozen prior visits to the area. We are only 3.5 miles from the Santa Monica Pier on the Pacific Ocean, and while we’d be smart to head right down, we’re tired after the 400-mile drive on a Friday afternoon that included a fair amount of traffic, the longest line we’ve ever seen at an In-N-Out Burger up the street from Mix Bowl, that snack-and-coffee break I mentioned, and of course, a stop for gas. With nothing left to share, we’ll turn this down and head to sleep so we might get an early start with the rising sun come morning.

Optimism

John Wise being Optimistic

I might want to write about optimism, but if look back on a few posts where I share thoughts on various things other than travels, I don’t know where I’ll come up with ideas that are optimistic.

Life is good, marriage is great, food has been terrific, and adventures are amazing, but looking out at society, I’m filled with dread. The simple solution might seem to be that I should turn away from society at large, but it is all who have come before me that have produced the art, literature, culture, science, and advances that I currently enjoy. So, why can’t I focus on those things that are currently at work and producing progress? For those things to propel us forward and my optimism to find traction, I require hope in some plurality of people that I believe are aiming for advancement instead of regression.

Come on and break out of this, John; you were supposed to write about some track of optimism that would launch us into 2022, and I just know you can bring this forth.

Well, for one, my health seems to be okay, but this is the last year of my 50s, and so I’ll admit I’m leery of what my 60s might have in store for me as old age will take on the serious appearance of what it is. All the same, I’ll be as optimistic as possible so long as my wherewithal keeps me walking 5 miles a day, eating healthy, and happy to get out of bed.

I’m enthusiastically still buying books, including Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings, Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human, Miss Lonelyhearts, The Tears of a Man Flow Inward: Growing Up in the Civil War in Burundi, Of Grammatology, Saving Beauty, Religion and Nothingness, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections, Dostoyevsky and The Flood of Language, Passions of Our Time, In the Dust of This Planet: Horror of PhilosophyThe Neganthropocene, and The History of Philosophy. All of these arrived just in the last 90 days of 2021.

We have planned 24 excursions out of Phoenix this year, including three visits to the Los Angeles area, Mexico City and Chiapas in Mexico, the Oregon Coast, Monterey, California, Death Valley, and the Grand Canyon, San Diego, a couple of trips to Utah, Nevada, three visits to different areas of New Mexico, Colorado, Yellowstone, and finally no less than half a dozen locations around Arizona. Ambition that will require a bit of stamina to maintain such a busy schedule will certainly not allow age to intrude.

With a pantry full of Chinese, Korean, Indian, Japanese, German, Burmese, Thai, and Mexican ingredients, Caroline and I will continue our adventures into cuisines from around the globe. Having favorites in all of those foods, it can become difficult to deviate and add new dishes as there are only so many dinners in a year that two people can eat, but we’ll try. On the tried-and-true front, I’m happy to announce that for the first time in maybe half-a-dozen years, I’ve shredded over 20 pounds of cabbage and pressed it into a crock for making sauerkraut. A batch of homemade granola is in the dehydrator, and when we return from our upcoming visit to Los Angeles, I’ll take on the full-day task of converting 20 pounds of red onions, paprika, and cilantro into a huge batch of Burmese curry base. Almost forgot to share that I recently turned 12 pounds of ginger into fermented ginger for those Burmese ginger salads we love so much, enough to last us into the summer.

Neither Caroline nor I are short of projects that require tending to as we continue to work through a backlog of stuff that only seems to grow, kind of like our reading list, destination wishes, and culinary curiosities.

Something that’s been in short supply the past couple of pandemic years is local cultural events typically focused on live music, special art exhibits, and various talks, and on the current horizon, there still seems to be nothing but the good news front. The Metropolitan Opera in New York City resumed its live simulcasts last year, and here in 2022, we already have tickets for Rigoletto, Don Carlos, Lucia Di Lammermoor, and finally, Hamlet.

Somewhere in this mix of the known and familiar, we’ll have to inject serendipity, spontaneity, and the unknown, but I feel certain that our intention to discover new things will open our senses to those opportunities. Finding triumph in growth and deep experience from year to year has been a signature of long-standing in our lives and will hopefully carry forward for years to come.

A Year in Review – 2021

2021

This is a type of blog post I’ve never attempted before, as a review of my year can be had by simply checking out the many musings I’ve published here over the course of the last twelve months. What is drawing this out of me is both a reaction and a hunch. The reaction is due to the near incessant drone of pundits and headlines I catch here and there about how abominable the last year has been. My hunch is that Caroline and I have had an incredible year, but instead of making a value judgment by shooting from the hip, I’ll skim through the nearly quarter-million words published in 2021 and see what things looked like for the two of us.

Our wedding bands

Introspection and continuing self-isolation were in order for the month of January 2021. It’s difficult to mention the pandemic without referencing the majority of the prior year, in which Caroline and I were thriving in the quiet of Phoenix, enjoying the empty skies, the endless walks in circles around our neighborhood, homemade meals every day, and more time together than we’d ever been afforded before. Another year of being married was had, and an election upset gave some breathing room aside from witnessing the attempted overthrow of our democracy.

Nomads across Europe

February came and went much as January did, except at the end of the month, we visited a museum for the first time in over a year and were able to join a drumming program at the Musical Instrument Museum. Earlier in February, after entertaining the idea of working remotely from somewhere near the Oregon Coast, we realized that America has become too expensive to afford any real comfort, so my attention turned to working from Europe. Sadly, Caroline’s company can’t support that situation, but that didn’t stop me from working intently on a year-long itinerary that would see us spending nearly a month each in Vienna, Innsbruck, Trento, Florence, Turin, Annecy, Aix-en-Provence, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Rennes, Rouen, Ghent, and Groningen. Nothing ever happens if we fail to dream.

Caroline and John Wise about to receive COVID vaccine

March was monumental, not because I stopped writing about perspectives and memories (I didn’t), but because Caroline and I both got our first shots of the COVID-19 vaccine. That wasn’t all, as March turned busy when Caroline not only returned to her office for in-person work, but I jumped into the car to head east, north, and south here in Arizona over a few days. Truth was, I needed to get away from home because, after a year in our apartment with Caroline nearby, I knew the place would feel empty without her presence.

Caroline Wise becoming a Junior Ranger at Saguaro National Park in Tucson, Arizona

April comes on with my 58th birthday, a junior ranger badge from Saguaro National Park for Caroline, our second shot of the COVID-19 vaccine, and plans for a road trip. After reading the news that the Monterey Bay Aquarium was planning on reopening for the first time since March of last year, we were going to head over to California if only I was able to snag a couple of tickets that were sure to sell out fast. Well, the website was hiccupping, and so, although the website said not to call the aquarium directly, with the site being hammered, they started taking phone orders. Not only did I get us in on an early morning reservation for one of the days we’d be in the area, but I was able to grab two tickets for the next day, too. On the last day of April, we left Phoenix for California.

Caroline Wise at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in Monterey Bay, California

Starting off May with a drive up Highway 1 on a beautiful sunny spring day couldn’t be more ideal. No matter what else would happen in May, it’s already perfect. Not long after returning from our ten days along the Pacific Ocean, we received a request from Germany asking if I could fly over to help deal with my mother-in-law’s effects and apartment. Before the month was out, I was on my way to Europe.

Sunset on the Main River with city skyline of Frankfurt, Germany

Nearly every day of June was spent in a mostly locked-down Germany. I’d never been to Europe without tourists found in every nook and cranny before and will likely never have the opportunity to see this again in my lifetime. Caroline and I didn’t miss a day talking with each other as she practiced her rusty skills of driving while also enjoying a ton of time to focus on herself and things she wanted to do, short of dancing around the apartment with her chonies on her head, though she might have done that too.

Jessica Aldridge nee Wise and John Wise at Wyoming State Line

Home in time for the 4th of July with more than a few days to recover from the jetlag that comes with such long flights around our earth. Somewhere in that recovery, my daughter Jessica called, letting me know that not only was she fully vaccinated but that she had some free time coming up. With a minimal amount of planning, I was able to forge an itinerary that would have us heading north before July was over.

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

August started in Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming with my daughter and ended with Caroline and me on a flight to Germany. Between those milestones, Jessica and I would hike in the Beartooth Mountains, drive to the Canadian border, and head south through the very middle of America for more than 1,000 miles on Highway 83.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Binz on Rügen, Germany

September was all about family in and around Frankfurt, Germany. With everyone over there in their mid-80s, we needed this time to visit with them more than has been typical. With that our goal, there were no side trips to Paris, Italy, or Sweden although we did fit in a few days up in Binz on Rügen, Germany’s largest island off the Baltic Sea coast.

Caroline and John Wise with William Mather in Flagstaff Arizona

October was spent recovering from five months of extensive travels. I barely knocked out 2,500 words about things, but we did pick up our friend William “Willy” Mathers from Scotland at our local airport to drive him up to Flagstaff, where he’d be departing for a three-week trip down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon the next day.

The Plum In The Golden Vase

Serb Fest, friends, restocking our pantry, the end of an era as we put to rest the Plum In The Golden Vase after taking nearly ten years to read its five volumes, more reading, and meeting author Pacifique Irankunda over coffee on a chance meeting; that was November. Before the month was out, I even got in a brief trip over Globe and Winkleman before heading into southern Utah for a quick hike in Bryce National Park with an old friend.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Now, here we are in December, Caroline’s birthday has passed, our visit with my daughter over in Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge south of Socorro, New Mexico, was had over Christmas, and we have nothing at all planned for New Year’s as just a week after we welcome in 2022, we’ll be heading to Los Angeles to visit some museums, gardens, and a couple of Persian restaurants.

So, how was 2021? I have nothing to complain about, as this was certainly by no means a year of misery. On the contrary, anyone could read above that we are incredibly fortunate to find the greatest experiences in life, even when that is nothing more than making a meal at home, reading a book together, or donning a new pair of socks my wife hand-knitted for me. Yay for 2021 and all that it brought.

Family Time – Day 3

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Sometimes, when trying to write a blog post, the first words can be the most difficult to come but that’s only because I head into something not having any real idea about what I want to say. The two previous entries were about our approach to the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge and our time amongst the birds and other creatures. Today, we’ll be heading home, but before we start on that leg of our weekend journey, we’re obviously right back where we were yesterday.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Nothing here is exactly the way it was, ever. If only we could understand that the sky, clouds, light, temperature, and the configuration of all things are in constant motion, never duplicating what was, maybe we’d break out of the lament of perceived routines required to participate with the machine of making money.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Maybe birds, too, wonder why they have to continuously return to bodies of water where they have to float in an icy bed, get up at the break of dawn, and fly to yet another location to find food, only to do it all over again. Then, after months of this routine, they have to fly over 3,500 miles (5,600km) to the Arctic, where within 5 miles of water, they establish another home base and keep up the grind of sleep, fly, eat, fly, sleep as though it was the worst job ever.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Things aren’t all bad as a bird, well, except for those situations where a hunter might shoot you, a wolf or coyote could eat you, or maybe a fox or owl could steal your child while it’s still an egg, but other than that things are pretty good. The average snow goose has the best views ever for sunrise and sunset; they poop at will with no need or concern for what’s below, they fly for free to any damn place they want, and if they spot some food, they swoop in to eat without a thought of cost. If they are lucky, they’ll experience up to 20 years of this carefree life of flying over half the planet pooping, eating, and breeding while we idiot bipeds below grimace at our stupid life choices and servitude at some meaningless task that barely affords us the opportunity to sleep under a roof and poop in a toilet.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

I’d probably not enjoy being plucked out of the purple and red waters of dawn on some winter day by the nearby eagle looking to make a meal of something, but I would like to know the freedom to paddle across the surface of a lake or pond and fish for grasses and worms in the muck before taking flight to skim above the surface of calm waters and finally settling down to float under the noonday sun.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

To some very small degree, Caroline and I are fortunate enough to live like birds, albeit flightless ones. That’s right, at least as far as I’m concerned, I poop where it occurs to me, which includes while driving around or standing here taking photos of flocks of geese under the morning sky. While I eschew worms and grasses, I’m not beyond hotdogs and kimchi. Our migration instincts toss us west to east, sometimes north, rarely south, but we are open to planetary exploration. Caroline may have been born with eggs but we’ve chosen not to fertilize them so foxes and owls do not become pests in our desires for a good life.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Regarding our limitation of not being able to take spontaneous flight, we do own a Kia Niro that allows us to jump in and race over the surface of the earth, which might be equated to something akin to chicken-like behavior as they, too, are denied flight although they are birds. Then again, they’d never be able to control the steering wheel or reach the gas pedal, so maybe that was a bad analogy.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Thinking again about my poor metaphor disguised as an analogy, I have to consider that my reader might think this is a silly exercise, but how many of them have allowed their children to believe reindeer take flight, pulling a fat man and sled to millions of homes to drop presents under a dead tree decorated with festive and expensive ornamentation? So, you cynics out there, how about you try to read my nonsense as ornaments upon my writing where, without much left to share about the joys of birdwatching on a cold winter day with gorgeous skies, I reach for the absurd instead of sharing how we tucked in around the tree and television for cookies as we watched Miracle on 34th Street for the 23rd time.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Speaking of Miracle on 34th Street, did you know that Richard Attenborough, who played Kris Kringle in that 1947 film, was the older brother of Sir David Attenborough, who might have provided his voice-over talent to these very geese at some time in their lives? Don’t forget that geese can live 20 years covering a vast area of our planet, so what I’m suggesting isn’t totally impossible, though possibly improbable.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

With all the birds gone, we, too, were ready to make ourselves gone.

On the road in Western New Mexico

After the obligatory stop at El Camino Family Restaurant for yet more steak Tampico and the ladies ordering Egg Mexicanos for the umpteenth time, we were ready to head down the long road towards home somewhere out there in the distance.

Regarding our reading of Lord of Dark Places by Hal Bennett that we started on Christmas Eve, well, we finished it all right, or should I say it finished us.

Family Time – Day 2

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Darkness and cold greeted us as we left our hotel, but the tradeoff was arriving at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge at the cusp of daybreak. We’ve been here before when it was even colder and the pond we are standing next to was frozen over. But who cares about some chilly weather when already knowing what to expect, we dressed appropriately in order to brave whatever the day had to offer us. The beautiful early morning reflections are not the primary reasons we are here adjacent to the White Sands Missle Range on the Rio Grande River.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Birds, we are here for birds, lots of them. This early, while finding our place in the Refuge, we are not specifically looking for sandhill cranes yet; that’s them standing over their reflections. Nope, we have other birds in our sights. If these first two images above were the best I would have captured while making this visit, I could have gone home happy to have experienced such beautiful sights.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

But we weren’t done witnessing the extraordinary, and then again, who would have driven 450 miles (725km) for only 10 minutes of such things? Not us; we were here to milk nature in order to imbibe this intoxicating mixture of elements from the sky, water, creatures, plants, dirt, sound, smell, and feel. Stirring this all to life was a still-invisible giant ball of fire which was sending us hints like the image above that it was on its way back, just like the snow geese.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

For a good half hour, the snow geese flew in from various corners around the refuge. For reasons beyond our human brains, these bird-brained elegant animals capable of flight choose to congregate here on this lake right before us. They squawk and chatter in a secret language to which the cranes don’t seem to pay any attention, but I do. I want to know what they are saying because after enough of them have come together in a giant love puddle of snow gooseness, they hatch a masterplan that is executed in an instant with a precision that boggles my mind.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

That instant arrives when thousands of snow geese launch themselves off the water and into the sky on their way to points across the landscape to forage for food that their advanced eye-sight is able to glean in ways that insinuate that my own vision might be inferior.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Into the fiery sky, they disperse while we, who will never know what the freedom of self-powered flight is like, stand in awe, gawking at the spectacle of a giant flock of birds.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

In a flash, only the cranes remain.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Well, not only the cranes, as incredible beauty continued hanging out with us hearty travelers who were trying our best to absorb every bit of the visual symphony the scenery was wrapping us in.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Hey, rogue goose, where has your flock gone or are you going solo taking your own path?

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Don’t hesitate to note the important stuff, as some knowledge is transitory, like these birds flying across the scene. What I’m trying to say is that I think we might be at another pond at this point, but I can’t be certain. I’ve looked at the landmarks in the background, but I’m at a loss to find any specificity of location. Does it really matter?

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

I’ll go out on a limb and claim that this murmuration of blackbirds are starlings, but if they really are, I can’t really know.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Sure, the grasses are brown, gold, reddish, and kind of yellow in a palette of fall and winter hues, as are the leafless dormant trees passing through this season, but should you choose to see stagnation, lack of life, or a general sort of dullness, you might be missing the bigger picture. On closer view, the landscape is full of potential and hints of what was in the months leading up to this perfect moment. To be honest, I, probably like you, find particular beauty in scenes such as what is pictured in the very top photo above, but I’d have to attribute that to the rarity of those sights found at dawn. Those early moments at the beginning of the day or the final glow of the last remnants after the sun has dipped below the horizon typically last less than an hour, while the midday light will remain with us for many hours, bathing what we look at in light that isn’t so nuanced and transitory.

Sadly, I can hardly see what personal details and characteristics wild animals have to offer aside from their presence. Obviously, I can tell babies and juveniles from adults, but I cannot comprehend the rarity of them in this environment as I can when relying on photographs where the aging process and choice in clothes convey what stage or point in life the person was. While Jane Goodall was lucky enough to live with apes long enough to identify their personalities and people who have pets learn those animals’ characteristics, I cannot take up a spot here at the refuge where I might encounter the same snow goose or crane on a day to day basis. Instead, I’m stuck with these two loons.

And for loons, there’s only one place to eat while in Socorro, New Mexico and that’s right here at the El Camino Family Restaurant where little more than 12 hours ago we had dinner. Then, in another 8 or 9 hours from now, we’ll be right back here for dinner again, but right now, on this wonderful Christmas morning, we are grabbing breakfast.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

We’d discussed heading north to visit the Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument series of church ruins but instead opted to return to the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge (by the way, Bosque is pronounced “bohs-kee” in these parts. We came back for some of the trails we’d never walked before.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

And the man said unto nature, “We humans, in our generosity, have carved out this fraction of the domain your ancestors once knew, but we are not heartless to your plight of a shrinking domain, so here, take this river bottomland we are not interested in and call this home.” Up here on this cliffside, we assumed our perch over the kingdom of creatures so we might better sense the rule of all that is below. This is the joy of being GODS.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

So, if you are the god you so arrogantly claim, how about you demonstrate that lofty position and chow down on this yummy cactus paddle as the javelinas do?

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Or might you be so humble as to organize the atomic and molecular structure of the universe to produce plants just like the force of evolutionary nature does?

Oh, I see how it is; we are here to sow destruction, create entertainment that satisfies our boredom of being horrifically aware of our existence, and steal what we can from all that is or might be as it feeds our sense of superiority. The depth required to be true creators and stewards is elusive to our puny-spirited population of idiots. But not us; we are here on Christmas Day to tread lightly, eschew entertainment and the consumerist experience to find the enchantment nature is putting on display in crazy abundance, delight in this brief moment of existence, and through it all, we hope that we’ve not intruded upon the potential of other life to indulge in another perfect day too.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

While we were here at the Bosque, we walked along, chatted, and obviously took a significant number of photos, maybe too many. Then again, these images capture precisely the world as it looked to us, and as such, they appear unique as they coincide with our memories, whereas someone else’s photo taken on a different day won’t strike the same notes as these will. True, there are images I’ll share here that fail to readily demonstrate in an apparent way why I thought there was something extraordinary about the view and would certainly fail to compel someone else to walk in our footsteps, but they sing to my memories. As others go into their unfolding world using the luxury of digital photography and even a rudimentary ability to write, I’d like to encourage people to record their world in this slow medium, meaning not using video, and then, years down the road revisit these documents and appreciate just how amazing your own memory is in bringing you back to something that might have otherwise been long forgotten.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Hello, future recollections of that day back at the end of 2021 when Caroline, Jessica, and I strolled through this wildlife refuge under fluffy white clouds set against a deep blue sky, and with the sounds of birds in our ears, we just walked along with nowhere else to be.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Maybe in that sense, we were much like these deer who couldn’t have cared about the larger world outside of their immediate experience. They were in the moment having deer thoughts and doing deer things just as we were having human moments doing human things, totally unconcerned with what was happening in the larger outside world beyond being right here.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Screwbean mesquite is a species of the tree that, as far as I can determine with 2 minutes of research on Google, will have that mesquite flavor desired by grillers across the southwest. As for the beans, I’m going to invite Caroline during her editing of this post to learn about the cooking potential they might have and share what she finds. [Screwbean mesquite pods are edible, particularly ground into flour that is gluten-free and nutrient-rich. However, other mesquite species are said to be more flavorful. – Caroline]

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

The Rio Viejo trail follows a former riverbed of the Rio Grande that’s now on the other side of a berm to our far left. In its stead is this trail, the screwbean mesquite trees, along with a bunch of cottonwoods. At this time of day, though, there weren’t many birds here.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

But there was a group of javelina coming out of the nearby brush, and as we stood silently, allowing them to do and go about their business, they slowed down, checked us out, and continued on their way.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

We counted eight javelinas in this squadron (I looked that up). Walking out of the bush and prior to sensing us, they were preoccupied foraging for whatever it was they were sampling from the forest floor. I’m guessing we were afforded the close encounter with these peccaries due to the direction the wind was blowing, but when they got within about 20 feet of us, they’d stop, and while looking straight at us, their snouts started frantically wiggling as though they were evaluating the potential threat in front of them that they likely could barely see. Lucky us, we could see them all quite clearly, but unfortunately, they never were in the right position for us to gather a good sniff of their musky stink that earned them the nickname skunk pigs.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

We’ve continued up the dirt road going north to position ourselves near the Coyote Deck. From here, we’ll just hang out a good long while before continuing the loop toward where our day began.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

From corners far and wide, the geese are heading back to the safety of the ponds where they can pull up their pillows and get some rest, safe from the coyotes that would gladly make feasts of the abundance of these feathery treats.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Just as we were about to head back to the hotel so we could catch something or other on TV, maybe some football, even more birds came flying in. Don’t you just hate it when you know there’s something worthwhile on the television and nature keeps interrupting you from getting back to the important stuff, like watching all of those old Christmas movies you’ve already seen dozens of times before because It’s a Wonderful Life is just that great? Yeah, well, I was being cheeky, and although it’s Christmas day and the romantic drivel of consumer-driven merrymaking is supposed to be all the rage along with this fakey nostalgia for such ugly, repetitive nonsense, I’d rather tell you to go stuff yourself regarding traditions…watching wild birds in the air rocks while roasted geese on your table are sad and tragic, just like your pathetic lives in front of idiot boxes.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Everything in that paragraph above was written by my wife, Caroline, against my wishes as I would never take such Scrooge-like digs at this Great American Holiday, which represents the best of what we have to offer as a free and decent people. As a matter of fact, I regret that we skipped out of Phoenix for years so we could avoid my mother during Thanksgiving, as who wanted to be part of that shit show?

Editors Note: Again, my wife has taken certain liberties with this last sentence to make me appear as some kind of crude curmudgeon with a broken sentimentality organ. I would never talk ill of the dead.

Note of Truth: Okay, so I take full responsibility for all of the text in this post, but after writing for the 28 photos that preceded this descent into farce, I just couldn’t come up with nice flowery things to continue rambling about the refuge and our delight at being here. So, I took a tangent, but after 2,000 words and so many photos, there’s NO WAY anyone is still reading this; even the Google indexing algorithm probably dipped out about a thousand words ago.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Hey John, instead of turning this obviously wonderful experience into a tragic parody of some poorly executed attempt at humor, why not just delete some photos, consolidate the text, and make this easier on all of us? My best answer is, when I was choosing photos in the days leading up to the point I’d start writing, I was certain that I required every single photo I’d chosen because each had the potential to be great if only I could add some meaningful poetic musings to elevate them. Instead, I’ve, in effect, maligned the magnificence of these cranes, some geese, too, as I channeled grumpy John.

Then again, do I really look all that grumpy? By the way, my daughter used to have the world’s stinkiest feet. We recently learned it could have been due to a type of bacteria that apparently also affects dogs, so if I were a betting man, I’d say my weird-ass daughter likely played footsy with her dogs back when they were still alive. I point out their life status as after staying with her in more than a few hotel rooms this year; we’ve not had one gacking moment, not even a little one. That’s my daughter in the middle for those of you who don’t know, and maybe I should also point out finally that she blogs, occasionally as poorly as I do, over at TheJessicaness.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Bright golden grass growing out of the shallow waters of this pond with the sun setting couldn’t be left behind. Writing that, I can’t help but think about how often I have wanted to leave my daughter and her rotting feet behind, but something compelled me to keep dragging her along. Ha, no, that didn’t happen; she’s married, and lucky for me, her husband Caleb somehow adapted to enduring the wretched stench of a magnitude compared to which even my farts smelled subtle and nearly insignificant. But enough of this airing of dirty feet on my eloquent and lovely blog I’m soiling with remembering my daughter just this way on Christmas; I’ll move on, I swear.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Sunset is coming, which means we are about to leave for dinner, and I have nothing else to say.

Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico

Really, nothing. Okay, here’s a Merry Christmas, but that’s it.