Our Christmas Wish
A time of year for joy and giving,
For festive parties, mistletoe,
for poems expressing thankfulness,
Read by a fireplace's glow.
For coziness and snuggling,
While winter's snowflakes fall,
And warm mugs filled with spicy wine,
By Christmas trees so tall.
For those of faith, reflection time,
With hymns sung with conviction,
Of thoughts of goodness towards all men,
The blessed benediction.
Each Christmas day that comes to pass,
Is respite from one's strife,
With childhood memmories envisioned,
So long ago, a simpler life.
A Merry Christmas from our hearts,
Another in a happy year,
Best wishes from us all, and joy,
To those you hold so dear.
Mark Worden
12/15/05
Friday, December 16, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
Veteran's Day--A Personal Essay
Veteran's Day
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Slumber--a poem
Slumber
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
Friday, October 14, 2005
Columbus Day---a poem
Columbus day
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled--a poem
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Monday, September 19, 2005
Golfing--a poem
Golfing
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Friday, September 09, 2005
Ants--a poem
Ants
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
Friday, September 02, 2005
Katrina--A poem
Katrina
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
Friday, August 26, 2005
Beachcombing--a poem
Beachcombing
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
Friday, July 08, 2005
Friday's 5 minute poem--7/8/05--"July"
July
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
The Marine Biologist
My daughter graduated this last year from UC Santa Cruz as a marine biologist, and is currently working for the Long Marine Lab in Santa Cruz studying various near shore sites along the California coast. The tide sets the schedule for her field work and often she is up very early in the morning or works late into the dusk of the day observing life in the tidal zone. Her wierd hours of work recently inspired me with a poetic vision of her activity:
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
Monday, June 13, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Pol Porn--a poem
Porn is a always a great target for the politicians. Someone is always at the pulpit attacking dirty pictures, Howard Stern, Paris Hilton's commercials, etc., etc. . Sometimes the ones talking the loudest turn out to be not what they seem.
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Fairest of the Fair--Friday's 5 minute poem
Fridays 5 minute poem
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Spring in Borrego--2 haiku
winters clouds give way
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Borrego in Bloom
April 5, 2005
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
Friday, June 03, 2005
June--Fair month
June has such a nice sound to it. Its soft and sounds warm and cozy. Schools get out. It's summer! There is less traffic. The water gets warmer at the beach and fishing seems to get better. There are lots of sand crabs to use for bait when surf fishing. Life seems easier.
Nancy always works at the county fair for the whole month of June. She likes to do it, but it changes our routine since she works alot of nights and generally long hours for the whole month and through July 4th. For the last 10 years or so I have spent July 4th at the fair, going to the concert and watching the fireworks by myself. I have got to the point where I even get one reserved seat for myself each year right down in front of the stage. Matt never goes with me, and even when Sara was around she worked the fair too. I need to find a date!
During June I eat alot of microwaved leftovers from whichever nights Nancy makes it home to cook during the week.
During June I spend to much time goofing off. I think I should change that this year. I have all ready been goofing off to much in May.
Nancy also gets free tickets to the fair, so whenever I want to see her I go. I have gotton pretty bored with it, but have tried to pick a few of the evening concerts to go to--alot of the time I find that the sound system is so loud I have to leave. I have to pick concerts I think will not be so loud. Rock is obviously out, and sometimes country, so I just hope that there is someone good who has a band that is not all bass guitar. I better get the list of concerts and see if I should get reservations for any besides the 4th of July concert by the Navy Band.
I always wonder if they are going to make any big changes at the fair, but it usually is the same old stuff. In a way, that is comforting. I bet there are people who go every year with certain expectations, and if something is missing would be disappointed. Even I have a certain routine of expectations for certain things to eat and exhibits to view each year. But it is a very short list.
It starts June 10.
Nancy always works at the county fair for the whole month of June. She likes to do it, but it changes our routine since she works alot of nights and generally long hours for the whole month and through July 4th. For the last 10 years or so I have spent July 4th at the fair, going to the concert and watching the fireworks by myself. I have got to the point where I even get one reserved seat for myself each year right down in front of the stage. Matt never goes with me, and even when Sara was around she worked the fair too. I need to find a date!
During June I eat alot of microwaved leftovers from whichever nights Nancy makes it home to cook during the week.
During June I spend to much time goofing off. I think I should change that this year. I have all ready been goofing off to much in May.
Nancy also gets free tickets to the fair, so whenever I want to see her I go. I have gotton pretty bored with it, but have tried to pick a few of the evening concerts to go to--alot of the time I find that the sound system is so loud I have to leave. I have to pick concerts I think will not be so loud. Rock is obviously out, and sometimes country, so I just hope that there is someone good who has a band that is not all bass guitar. I better get the list of concerts and see if I should get reservations for any besides the 4th of July concert by the Navy Band.
I always wonder if they are going to make any big changes at the fair, but it usually is the same old stuff. In a way, that is comforting. I bet there are people who go every year with certain expectations, and if something is missing would be disappointed. Even I have a certain routine of expectations for certain things to eat and exhibits to view each year. But it is a very short list.
It starts June 10.
4 Summer Haiku for June's bursting out
school doors tightly closed
tassels and robes
teenyboppers freedom
summer rays shimmer
at blue waters edge
seaside solstice
tan bodies strewn
with gee string bikinis
beaches in baja
limes sliced from trees
mate ala mexicana
santa ana cabana
m. worden
6/3/05
tassels and robes
teenyboppers freedom
summer rays shimmer
at blue waters edge
seaside solstice
tan bodies strewn
with gee string bikinis
beaches in baja
limes sliced from trees
mate ala mexicana
santa ana cabana
m. worden
6/3/05
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
