My old Newhall garden was on the strip between a planned community's private golf course and the chaparral. Bobcats; an infrequent mountain lion; ever-present quail, jack and cotton tail rabbits, gophers, rats and mice, ground and tree squirrels and coyotes inhabited the place daily. Over the eighteen years it existed, birds of all kinds were frequent visitors. Several kinds of owls, hawks, my favorite Bush Tits, were daily companions. There was a short period when a trio of Road Runners took up residence. Two males and a disinterested female ran up and down the golf course many afternoons. The two males strutted their stuff while she ran from one insect catch to the next, completely ignoring both of them. I'd found piles of smashed snail shells at the bottom of the concrete retaining wall holding back the facing hillside capped with homes. I figured they were the result of a snacking possum or something. It wasn't until I was out watering and had the delight of watching one of the males stalking snails in the garden it dawned on my what they were. He'd dive into a bush to snag something, glide across the fire road to perch on the wall cap then smash the shell and gobble its contents. Then, back across the road to resume his browsing. The males would click their beaks and fan their wings and tails to impress the female in attempts to outdo each other. She always ignored them, continuing to gorge herself on the abundant insect populations drawn to the oasis of lush, luxuriant turf surrounded by the hilly chaparral. One afternoon, I heard what sounded like an injured dog crying. I couldn't find it for the longest time until I discovered one of the males sitting in one of the Mexican Honeysuckles. It was the Road Runner making the sound. I'd never heard them make anything like it before. Another afternoon, I went out to water and the two males were chasing each other from the golf course into the garden along the main path. I stood completely still watching them, until they nearly ran into me. I know I startled the dickens out of them as they hit the breaks like the Road Runner cartoons, turned into a bisecting path until they hit the top of the slope where they each turned the opposite direction and ran off into the brush. They were beautiful, amazing and completely entertaining creatures! I'd resisted using chemical controls for anything in that garden because of the stream of inhabitants and visitors. These Road Runners confirmed my resolve not to bring in any chemical measures. I hated the snails, but the image of finding one of them injured or killed by something I did was too much to bear. Quail were interesting and rather annoying. There were many fifteen gallon cans of roses I wished to keep contained and the quail would nest in them for protection. I would begin watering and once I'd get about two feet from the can, several quail would explode in all directions from them like shrapnel, scaring the life out of me. I was always on heightened alert for snakes (NOT my favorite!) as there were Black Racers, Gophers, Kings and Rattlers out there. I met them frequently and did my best not to molest them as I knew they all did their part to keep the rodent population in check. Usually, a strong stream of icy cold water from the hose was sufficient to convince them I was staying and THEY weren't...except for the Black Racers! They were attracted to the water, probably because it meant their food supply would be nearby. One afternoon, I encountered one of them and began my water assault to encourage him to vacate the place while I was there, only to discover he FOLLOWED the stream of water instead of avoiding it. Once that finally sunk in, I was already impaled on a large rose bush and the hose went one direction while I struggled to head in the opposite! Fortunately, the snake took the watery path so I could regain my composure! That garden was the first place I got to watch a rattle snake catch and swallow a rabbit. It was fascinating, like a science experiment with shivers! The Jays raised a real ruckus in the bush tops while the other rabbit watched his fellow become lunch, until it was over. I tapped with my water wand on the rocks I bordered the path with to encourage him it was time to leave. He struck at the wand convincing me it was time to use a colder, wetter "encouragement"! As he made his way up the slope toward the brush, two Jays dive bombed him while in the open. It felt as if they figured since he'd eaten already, they were safe. Back to quail... I was flooding a bed desperately in need of some deep water. Toads had excavated several holes into tunnels which collected the water. I hadn't noticed the adult pair of quail with their brood in tow until I heard the noise erupting from one of the flooded holes. A baby quail was dog paddling in the water while the rest of the brood raised all manner of noise. I reached in to rescue it and then worried that perhaps the parents would abandon it because I'd touched it. After drying it off with paper towels, I placed the small bird in a large bucket to keep something from eating him. I figured I could keep him fed until he was large enough to set free, then went back to my watering. In very short order, the mother quail was on the potting bench where the baby was raising Cain to get out of the bucket. The father was on the fire road out from the bench, feigning an injured wing in an attempt to draw me away from the mother and baby to give her a chance to try to free their child. I'd never thought the parenting instinct was so intense in quail! I studied their tactics for a few minutes, how the father remained just out of my reach while the mother tried everything she could to free her child. The other children were well out of reach under the surrounding bushes making an incredible racket! I carefully made my way back to the potting bench and placed the bucket slowly on its side to allow the infant escape without injury. As soon as he was clear of the bucket and me, both parents raced to him, herding him and the rest of the brood quickly into the under brush. What a relief! I didn't WANT to raise one of those noisy little things, but I felt if I'd caused him injury, I owed him remedy. Two things impressed the heck out of me about those birds. The intense parental instincts for each and every offspring, and the ENORMOUS feet that tiny bird had! As if he was hatched with full, adult sized feet! The experience was fascinating and amazing. There was a large, paved area at the bottom of the fire road separating the garden from the landscaped area of the community. Cut worms were a spring event in that garden. We'd find them weeding or planting, collecting them in a bucket to put out on the hot asphalt to the delight of the bazillians of lizards who kept the place swept for bugs. The cut worms would become very active from the heat of the paving while many lizards would watch from the safety of the sidelines until one would break from the circle to grab his choice of bug. The worms were very plump and hard. Occasionally, one would burst from the lizard chewing him and the lizard often dropped it and ran, probably from the surprise of his dinner "exploding" in his mouth! It was a frequent enough event, it seemed the lizards had come to expect the feeding and entertainment. The pleasure of watching their antics was well worth the stiff back from weeding and discomfort of the high heat in that canyon. It was a FUN and educational place!

Mistral is a beautiful Herreshoff schooner built in 1938. Her LOA is 82 ft. She has been rebuilt twice at great expense and treated us well...well except for the time the Capt surfaced from the bilge to inform us that we were on a sinking boat but J's good common sense soon had a jury-rigged bilge pump set up so sink we did not. Annette I may never catch up with my weeds, too many clients have to come first. Looking forward to your poppies blooming this year. Thinman, google" Bermuda Dinghy" for all the info on Elizabeth 11, you will be amazed. I know ,roller-furling, not traditional, but I kinda like it (when it works,lol) Edna your painting news is fabulous! Good on you, I'll echo Cameron here "you rock" Patti and Nancy, so good to hear from you! Glad you enjoyed the pics, Martha

OMG the craziest thing just happened to me! I couldn't take a pic because I was the subject of the visitor... I was outside staking a delphinium, and a yellow dragonfly landed on my upper arm, and I looked closely and it was munching on a big fly. I fought back panic and it stayed there chewing away for about 2 minutes then flew off. It was really cool but super gross too, it left some fly debris on my arm. UUGH! Apparently now I am a picnic table...

sharing some stories also...this is our angel's 14th year as tree top, my daughter & her grandpa has been putting the angel since she is 2 yrs, but when her grandpa passed away in the summer of 1999 she refused to put the angel that christmas and the next christmas, but in 2001, she helped her 2yrs old brother to put the angel, and they have been putting it together since then but i always see a blink of sadness on her eyes everytime she does it...remembering her grandpa perhaps. she is 16 yrs now. we often get remarks..oh you should change your tree top it doesnt match, or it goes well with a star, i guess that angel is not going anywhere.