March Madness, A Sneer-filled Adieu to Old Man Winter and California Dreamin

right outside our door in Rancho Santa Fe, California

You may note that I have been off from writing, on a little sabbatical, for a few days. Somehow, I find I prefer not to write while I am actually away on a day-by-day basis, so that my thoughts don’t get into a contrived mode. That is usually better for me.

So yesterday, I reluctantly boarded a plane in Los Angeles after a short, but blissful interlude in that part of the Country, for which the word, “lucky” always comes to mind – where they are always in the temperate zone and, where, I so shockingly found documented in the Shutters on the Beach cookbook a few years ago, and amazingly, it is the land of 350 days of sunshine – that would be California!!!!

This story would not be told well unless I properly set the perspective from which I took this trip– so, indulge me this little, albeit, somewhat disjointed, intro:

mostly written 24 hours ago aboard a plane:

March Madness, A Sneer-filled Adieu to Old Man Winter and California Dreamin –

I am celebrating right now, yes I am – not just the obvious comings of voluminous ramblings about this past 8 day trip – but celebrating the beginning of embarking on the “real” months of my life each year – and so I am, in my mind, raising a glass to myself – yes, Marianne, you MADE it through one more Winter – this one, just barely – without totally losing your sanity and health……….. and, I kid you not here………. April is just around the corner and will be followed by May and June and roses and morning glories and butterflies and sunny, warm days and long, long days of sunshine in late June and July ———– and oh my gosh – it is such relief – I literally cannot say just how wonderful it feels to make it here……….

Yes, it was still technically Winter when I touched down on the other coast of the U.S. last Monday, March 17 – even though to this nor-east-coaster, it didn’t look like any Winter I’d grown up with. It didn’t, therefore, take long for Mama Cass’s voice to begin playing in my head. (“All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray” I said goodbye to this part of the song as the pilot thrust those engines up and we were off the tarmac).

the miraculous fragrance that is Orange Blossoms

To say that this trip was all about visual feasting on outdoor life and, in particular, in colors, is an all-out understatement – here is why:

I am not sure who first came up with the term, “March Madness”. Today this term is most commonly associated in the media with the wildly-exuberant multi-week celebratory extravaganza which kicks off with Mardi-Gras, threads through the culmination of the college basketball season here in the U.S and, in some years includes the joyous renewal that is Easter in the Christian world. (Really, I believe these events have all evolved for a slightly different but related reason – aka to celebrate survival, and you know where I am going with this.)

The most commonly-accepted application of “March Madness” had been well-developed in the headlines and heads of sports fans, including my daughter and husband’s, long before we left New Jersey (albeit without my family’s favorite teams intact). But, as with most right-on-the-money and highly-clever anointments of certain seasonal celebrations which have come to be, other uses of the term have evolved. My application of “March Madness” had been building to its annual crescendo inside me for a long while. It, you undoubtedly are well aware (and are sick of hearing about), doesn’t involve a round leather ball, watching the regional selections on a Sunday evening, personal bracket-picks or subsequent competitions – this year’s in pursuit of a mind-blowing $1Billion prize.

Yes, you know, my March Madness involves the arrival at the “must seek help” stage of craziness – the breaking point of the degree to which I feel like I have been lost in a stage of highly-arrested-living – a feeling which is closely akin to holding my breath, as if under water, in order to endure those months between the sighting of the last vestiges of the ending growing seasons and the beginnings of the next. (that I have actually endured this for 59 years is a life-mystery I shall pursue with a professional under separate cover). I know in my heart that this coping mechanism- involving the void of most all “happiness-meter ratings”, is an abject failure – by virtue of looking at myself in the mirror each morning and facing the bewildered faces of my family and friends and yet, I haven’t found a next-best solution yet, short of buying a vintage VW bus, spray painting it in wildly-colored paisleys, smiley-faced sunshines and rainbows and ubiquitous flowers, packing a bag of shorts, flip flops and a good fleece jacket and setting off, but I digress.

mine would look something like this – but with tie-dyed curtains and you’d be able to see out the windows – photo courtesy wwsick.com

Where we live in north-central New Jersey, and particularly during this past Winter, I was holding my breath for an extra-long time, muttering a lot of hideous curse words, if mostly under my breath and damning various articles of clothing I was forced to wear on a daily basis – not a pretty sight nor not a lot of fun for those around me. While I dutifully and sincerely attempted to indulge myself in a half-hearted attempt at the delusional perspective – that Winter could be beautiful, and took some quite nice photos from inside and out, my heart was filled with a cynicism and dishonesty that I deplore in myself. As longsuffering readers of this blog and friends on fb well know, I commonly take to several well developed self-deceptive base-level survival operations – on a day-to-day basis, in life-saving forms, relating to color-enhancement, rituals to re-confirm life forms, including tending to the remnants of last year’s summer plants horded into the house for nurturing, photo taking of many sorts and, creative undertakings in various genres in the kitchen – including, sadly over-eating.

And so, well aware that I would be “crazier than a June bug in May” as I anxiously counted down the days to the impending solstice, I planned in advance, in conjunction with Christin’s 25th birthday and the previously unexpected one-term Spring Break of grad school, a little junket for this past week. After our very successful past trip in late September of 2010, this was a long sought out excuse to return to California to indulge in that lucky-as-heck land of the 350-day sunshine, temperate climate oasis of the US of A and to see if it was at all possible to overtly and shamelessly bribe at least one of our kids to move there. Today, eight days have passed since I touched down at LAX and I have just left the state of California behind – it is now a distant blur out the window at 30,000 feet.

Here is a little synopsis of our trip:

It is no secret that I went to California packing a big-time agenda – similar, but not exactly the same as the one I pack when traveling to my favorite destinations in Europe. This one is slightly narrower – the food, flowers and farm thing – basically because all the hallmark treasure troves and history in Europe isn’t there in Calif – it is something different, but still a sight to behold. It is somewhat unfortunate that I come with others with this powerful agenda – for a couple of reasons – one is that the other people I am with have to be subjected to my on-going blithering-on about just about each and every specimen flower I come upon, to visit each and every farmers market within driving distance, to patronize the road side fruit stands, and to see me wander, camera-in-hand and glee-in-heart to take in all the wondrous beauty. And so, it is also such a blessing that it was indeed the March Madness of the sporting kind, so that the other two travelers could spend time relieving themselves of the hideous boredom of discussion of the wide array of happy- dwellers – Agapanthus – among my very favorites, and to see me once again repeatedly traverse the loop that is the Santa Barbara Farmers Market – about 5 laps around – to feast myself a la Campo di Fiori – in my own personal glory and heavenly state of mind…………….

We were anxious to see the San Diego area as none of us had been there before and this was Christin’s first ever trip to CA. We spent three and a half lovely days in a suburb of San Diego called Rancho Santa Fe – a beautiful, albeit pretty-much-planned community looking like an uber-tasteful outgrowth of a long existing haven – sort of collage of horse country cum farm country cum newly sprouted very upscale suburban-SD “retirement” sorts. Let’s just say retirement can come at some pretty early ages here. Lots of well-healed sorts lolling about in apparent giddy-paradise, but a very low-key existence to be seen here.

in the land of the happy Agapanthus – at Rancho Santa Fe

Where shall I begin? I cannot tell you how much ooohh and ahhhing I did over my MFS (most favored status) Agapanthus and multitudes of other gorgeous flowers, plantings, the heady and intoxicating aroma of orange blossoms outside our door which I inhaled with great joy less than a moment after I stepped out of the car. Oh my goodness – this is MEDICINE for the soul – just what the Dr. ordered, YES. And then the onslaught of the hummingbirds – so amazing these little creatures, which must flap their wings so many times a moment that I wonder how they can possibly arm themselves with enough energy each day. I adore them. Each morning we walked around the considerable grounds and took in all the specimen plantings – not at all offended that this was all brought in – but appreciating that it had been so well done. Honestly, I stopped and inhaled the orange blossoms every time I passed. Amazing. I always love to see citrus growing outside and sighed just a little, longing for Positano and Taormina – but I pushed this back into storage for another time – and professed my commitment to enjoy exactly where I was – on the gorgeous coast of southern California.

On our second day we ventured down to La Jolla – taking in all that is the physical beauty of the classic southern CA beach town – extraordinaire! The looks on visitors’ faces were ones of serene calm and peacefulness as they sat on benches on the cliffs enjoying this amazing beauty along the Pacific. Of course, this being a common Spring Break week, there were lots of families to be found and all kids seemed happy. (What’s not to like? – more on this later). The natives all look content as Heck – and I found myself thinking that there is absolutely no way these people understand how lucky they are to live here – where life is beautiful all the time…………

We also took in the adjacent to Rancho Santa Fe beach town of Del Mar and its immediate environs……….. where one can readily observe the preferred, if not predominant pecking order of life’s priorities – #1 is surfing, #2 is anything else. We found ourselves wondering about the relative priority of working here and just decided that a great majority of those people who do deem it necessary to work, sought out jobs where they could surf first and work second – as in restaurants requiring them to report at around 4pm. Lots of life lessons here – very similar to Cape Cod where we typical New York Metropolian-ers grow easily impatient when trying to get some work done while the contractors are all out fishing. As I said, lots of life lessons to be learned here.

We paid a rather quick visit to downtown San Diego – had a nice lunch and wandered around a bit – a very nice city to live in or around, no doubt about it!

All in all our stay in this area was amazingly wonderful – food excellent and everyone relaxed and happy. We ate in very casual places and dined on simple food – lots of fresh fish and produce – all very simple and well-prepared.

My favorite stop here involved driving off the access road to our hotel to procure my very first fresh-picked California strawberries of the season. This we did from a lone vendor, perched upon a little knoll peddling his most extraordinary ripe red beauties at a small, perhaps 6’ long stand. This gentleman, I realized, didn’t speak any English, after I had I tried to express how grateful we were to have this gift of his fruit in this beautiful place in this extraordinary climate. I can only hope that he knew how happy he had made me, and how much this little stop had meant. As I have learned so truly and deeply over the last several years, there is nothing so great as to connect directly with the people who grow food for a living and then market it themselves. One of my greatest pleasures in life has become to observe the pride and value of these people as they so lovingly share the fruits of their incredible labor – and especially to watch their faces as they sell to their customers. I have learned to do this in NY at Union Square and now enjoy this wherever I go. This particular man I expect, was of Mexican descent, his skin deeply browned and his eyes wore the expression and glaze of much hard work over many years. I looked longingly and appreciatively at the aged and deeply lined, thick and rugged skin of his hands – the badge of honor of years of hard and back-breaking work and somehow I felt badly that I was only paying him this small amount of money for what must be incredibly long and burdensome toil over what I assume to be a lifetime. I must say there is not an ounce of question in my heart nor in my mind surrounding the provenance of this man and the others like him, for I have the deepest respect for him regardless of whatever his “legal” status may be and all the vagaries and questions carried with it.

More Rancho Santa Fe and La Jolla pics are below.

the beach at Shutters in Santa Monica

On Thursday we ventured back up the coast and stopped over in Santa Monica for a quick lunch at Shutters on the Beach. Once again, there was no absence of people strolling, biking, and just plain enjoying the beautiful weather – in the middle of the day. The beach here is grand – wide, flat and soft – a delightful sight with the well-known icons of the ferris wheel and other amusements on the pier in the close distance. Christin and I posed for a, sorry – out of focus selfie entitled “Wish We All Could Be California Girls” and don’t we know it!

“Wish We All Could Be California Girls”

After lunch, off we went to venture up to our beloved Santa Barbara. We lulled up the Pacific Coast highway through Malibu and oogled at all the cliffside dwellers of lore there – so sparkling and coveted are these perches of the rich and famous.

Along the way we enjoyed the beautiful mountains of browns, golds and greens – somewhat reminiscent of Cabo San Lucas – as this is where these ranges originate, I guess – and so different again, from the East coast.

Next great vision for me? – Oxnard, California home of acres and acres AND acres of – yes, Strawberry Fields Forever – as far and wide as the eye can see. It is so invigorating to see these farms – some of which I had hoped to stop at and get to speak with the owners and workers to help me chronicle my obsession with family farming (as I had hoped to do with a visit to Paso Robles to meet Brigit Binns at her winery and the Masumotos, Frog Hollow, Blossom Hill Apricots ………..and the others – but I will have to do this when I am alone and have much more time, sadly) – especially organic fruit farming in Calif – but in the timeframe of this trip, this was not possible. This trip and seeing all these strawberry fields coming into their first peak and during the growing and harvesting seasons was spectacular and re-confirmed for me my passion for this state home of those lucky bovines, the California Cows <3, whose now famous (for me, anyway) advertisements depict these lovelies exchanging pleasantries and confirming amongst themselves their incredible luck – love them! This area alone, is a remarkable sight to behold – and so close to the coast! Spectacular!

On we drove up past Ojai – another “dying to see spot” – but passed by and up to Santa Barbara. We were anxious to see this sprawling iconic area known as the American Rivera, for a second time – and it did not disappoint. We drove Christin around for a quick first tour and settled in. We dined two nights in Montecito, did lots of walking and taking in of the Friday morning “mini” farmer’s market in Montecito. In Santa Barbara, there is a Farmer’s Market every day of the week – and isn’t this just the place for me?

lillies at the Montecito Farmer’s Market

The “little one” in Montecito was lovely – filled with the most amazing flowers and I found myself saying – wow – Friday is flower day here – people were in the village early – as we were out for our morning walk, picking out bunches of the most amazing-sized and robust looking lilies I have ever seen. I had to restrain myself from swooping up bunches and bunches as I had nowhere to take them. We bought a lovely pint of organic strawberries for an ungodly $6.50 – but, again, I’ll tell you – well worth it – and we inhaled them on the way back to the hotel.

organic Strawberries – A-mazing

It was somewhat serendipitous that we arrived right at the beginning of high strawberry season and I’ll tell you, I’ll have a hard time returning to NJ and buying supermarket strawberries again……… While our last visit to Calif was in late September when the harvests includes a much wider variety of fruits and vegetables ( like the stone fruits!!!!) this was still wonderful. I had a great time oogling the beets, artichokes, lots of greens and fresh organic peas – which are really hard to find in our area at home.

honestly, this could be my favorite photo of the trip!

I am getting a little ahead of myself here because I am mixing together the offerings at the Saturday downtown SB farmers market with the one in Montecito. Both were great fun to attend – but my heart really belongs to the downtown Saturday market – at the corner of Santa Barbara and Cota Streets – where there is live music, some yogis strolling in skirts – one particularly handsome one and lots of other fun and games. Once again it was hard to restrain myself from buying all the beautiful produce – having nowhere to go with it short of gorging on more strawberries in our hotel room for dessert at night. I did buy a most beautiful knob of fresh Ginger – one that I toted home for my coveted Lemon and Ginger tea – and sorry to say was amazingly superior to anything I find here.

While the “coastal cover”, aka “marine layer”, known here to compromise the sunshine immediately along the coast in late Spring and early summertime decided to descend early and clouded us in for most of the time here in Santa Barbara – much to my chagrin, believe me – I was still very happy to enjoy all that this area has to offer. Once again we dined very simply and had great fish and light salads – and I have to say there is absolutely no shortage of culinary talent anywhere we went no matter how humble.

Early in the evening on Friday I noticed the presence of a group of security people milling about our hotel in fact they were guarding the entrance to one of the pools along the way to our room just past dusk. They were very serious-looking chaps with ear wires intact and serious expressions. Early Saturday morning we noticed them again as Christin and I enjoyed our first sips of coffee/tea in the lobby before the sun came up. They took in their breakfast just as the restaurant opened and seemed to be on a tight schedule with an overt alertness. Off we went on our walk and when we returned and had breakfast we felt their definite presence as the strode quietly but determinedly through the dining room and out to the terrace. For awhile we were perplexed as to what celeb would warrant such a contingent but when George opened the front page of the local Santa Barbara paper we realized who just be in our presence – Vice President Joe and Dr. Jill Biden – there they were off on the edge of the patio trying to have a little regular breakfast-time alone. I spied him right away – sorry to say it was the back of his head that gave him away in a second. Anyway, they dined quietly and hopefully happily and then he rose, put on his sunglasses and pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes – Dr. Jill walked out alone first and Mr. VP stopped and kindly posed for a quick pic with a delighted young girl. He quickly put his glasses back on, pulled the cap down and strode out in his grey ARMY tshirt and black workout pants. The squad quickly retreated behind him. Just a little quick excitement on a Saturday morning for us regular folks. This was a quick follow-up after spying Peter Lynch right next to our table at the corner Italian bistro in Rancho Santa Fe a couple of nights earlier – you just never know……… the world is such a small place anymore. Anyway, a little bit of fun.

On Saturday afternoon, because the sun didn’t peak through, we decided to drive up a little to Solvang, a charming little town of Danish heritage, boasting amazing physical beauty in the near and distant hills. We had a quick lunch, sat in the sun, being, we learned that we needed to go “inland”. The scenery was definitely great but the commercial venue was just ok – not my favorite destination in Calif so far.

The rest of our stay in Santa Barbara was just plain fun – driving, walking, eating, relaxing. It was really so nice to soak it all in.

Sunday was Christin’s 25th birthday and so we had a nice breakfast together, sat in the sun, which decided to honor her day for her for awhile and then headed, thoughtfully and wistfully, back down to LA. George scored a deal at the Beverly Hills Hotel – a little treat for Christin and we had a fun dinner at Nobu after walking a bit on Rodeo Drive – to see how the other half lives. It was pretty and sparkling-clean – sort of like a visit to all the New York stores, but where it’s actually clean……..

Then, just as always, just as quickly as it begins, it is time to leave. What a feeling of dismay and regret I have, now knowing I am returning to the east coast, where all is not green and blossomed-out and I am surely not deluded enough to believe it is in actuality Springtime there (not to mention the actual weather report which I am mentally suppressing as we speak). All in all, I guess I got my fair share of feasting on colors – flowers and produce alike that are the hallmarks of the state. I did my best to store up my long-empty canyons of life-mode of the out of doors kind. I had been thirsty, hungry and yearning for a long time.

When I travel to warmer climes during the months when it is not nice at home, I always feel that somehow it is going to be as nice at my return destination as it was where I left. I know this is not rational and I assume it is not unique. Jersey bound today is a sort of mixed bag of emotions – I am anxious to see my animals and be back in my own home but I am regretful that I have left the land of the living plants, the temperate climate of California.

All in all it was a joy to see the colors of California – akin, for me, to the meaning of the words, Glory, Glory Hallelujah – a world of planting and farming and abundant joy in growing, a world where the landscape has been both planted out in an expression of planned beauty to join hands with the extreme beauty that is the topography of the state.

I know now, by the way that for sure, I will regret writing the part of a Sneer-filled Adieu to Old Man Winter – as surely as I sit here in my winter leggings and wait for the S…., but whatever, I am filling my head with these:

Picture Gallery:

While at Rancho Santa Fe and La Jolla:

gorgeous camellias