As the weather warmed we breakfasted in the garden doing our best to tune out the unrelenting techno/disco/[not very]hip hop ricocheting in from across the street where suburban moms, down from the hills in Audis and SUVs, are yelled at by a staccato female voice as sneeringly offensive as Our Great Leader’s and as out of sync with the blaring beats as OGL is with Reality, gifting us all the “benefits” without having to work up the sweat…brainless cacophony,  emphasis on the “caca” and the “phony” in both instances.  Come the weekend we ventured into

quieter greener West Marin to catch up with beloved friends Patsy and Jon, meeting at the latter’s office to see models and drawings before a tour of local projects past – an opulent house in Point Reyes Station – and future, the conversion of the large [very large] barn next door into an exhibition space to house a large [very large] art collection as well as a possible artists’ residency program…or maybe…there were drawings anyway, and the barn at least, encompassing

a former riding rink, was most Substantially There.  After visiting an exquisite recently realized

house across the Bay in Inverness we adjourned to theirs, where dogs were recovering from having cleverly opened a jar of marijuana butter and, Gordon Setters apparently not known for Moderation, disastrously overindulged.   We indulged in some very nice champagne, bore witness to a beautiful Navajo saddle blanket and two very good paintings [Patsy’s most recent shimmering on the borders of perception] before proceeding downtown for an early seating at Saltwater.  Meanwhile Aggie, having met with the Gordons, wondered where HER

marijuana butter was and when it was coming the entire time our most enjoyable dinner took

to reach its contented conclusion close to three hours later.

This was followed by Sunday breakfast blessedly lacking the exercists’ sonic pollutants

although they were back in force Monday…along with many and several garbage pickups,

visions from The Past*

and, with Linda’s studio briefly mostly emptied, another week of sunny breezy days.

Chilly out for dining, but we tried; it’s already April, after all….green on the hills seemingly

everlasting, though it won’t.

 

 

*[William S. Crosby assembling his Toyota-top clear plastic sleeping compartment, Golden Gate Park, 1974]