Birthday Week

[Management regrets the month of September has flown by and Ms. Miller has scarcely blogged at all. An executive decision was made by management that Ms Miller will be chained to her desk until she back fills all of the posts she did not make for September. Following her tardy entries, we shall all pretend she posted in September on time on the appropriate days. Any protestations concerning Management's decision concerning the dishonesty of pretending September's posts were on time shall be met with immediate and deafening silence.]Another week , another damned birthday. It was a fun birthday, happily coinciding with my annual mini-break up Highway 101 with my friend Barbara. I've been bored, and Barbara's been in desperate need of a break from the ongoing dramas at her household – you do not want to know. So after picking up Barb at her Father’s house in Napa we were off north.

On the way we enjoyed the usual side trips, like this mini-jaunt near Klamath to visit one of the former Highway guards, a giant ce-ment California golden bear.

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The above bear and its matching mate are forced into retirement where they dwell on some land just off Highway 101 by the town of Klamath. They were replaced by rugged, young, shiner golden whippersnapper bears that now guard the bridge over the Klamath River.

Newer, Shinier Klamath Bridge Bear

Likewise, both myself and Barb are feeling like we could use some shiner brighter aspects to our lives and we chatted about such things for hours on the way north. We briefly stopped at Prairie Creek Redwoods where the wild elk roam.

Cruising the Giant Meadow at Prairie Creek Redwoods

Once in Crescent City we stayed our usual cute little spot on the beach. We took several walks along the beach combing; finding shiny new sand dollars and such.

I was walking along in the surf when Barb called me and ignoring her, I looked up, assuming she was pointing out to me the bird that swooped overhead - a Turkey Vulture. "Claire!" Barb shrieked urgently. "It's just a Turkey Vulture," I yelled back. "Not an Osprey."

"C-L-L-L-A-I-R-E", Barbara shrieked insistently.

"Wha....?" Finally I looked over. There, only a foot from Barbara, floated a Common Murre! The bird looked at Barb with a definite air of curiosity, as though sizing her up. I hot-footed it over and stood looking at the bird, assuming, as did Barb, that the tiny mite was in some sort of distress - perhaps a broken limb. I was already calculating how I was going to scoop it up, pinning down its wings when I heard, a clear voice, saying the bird was uninjured.

I was stunned - the critter was an accomplished telepath. I 'heard' the bird inform me that it was fine, and I should back off. I'm not nuts, it really relayed a message to me. Nope. I didn't make that up. If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'.

I was gob smacked. The surf retreated leaving the bird seated on the wet sand. It tilted its head to look up at me, mildly curious, utterly unperturbed - its little head was brown and as sleek as a seal. The surf returned, lifting up the bird and it began to paddle it's funny webbed feet. Sitting up on the water it flapped it's wings and headed back out to sea.

The following morning we found a dead Common Murre, its chest pecked open by gulls and my heart sank. But, we went on to find two more dead Murres as well. Barb insisted 'my' bird had died, but I know the cheeky little imp had was alive and well. Hell -why would it have lied to me?

It was a great week. We visited a true daughter of Crescent City, our friend Inez. We spent an afternoon touring Inez's beautiful garden and chatting.

Barbara and Inez

Two other drop-ins to Inez's Garden

The following day we went for Sunday Brunch at Patrick's Creek Inn. Afterwards Inez took us for a drive up to Oregon with a few stops along Smith River and Pacific Ocean.

Treking back uphill after beach combing for agates.

Barbara and I enjoyed our four days in Crescent City. On our drive back we stopped in Napa for a froo-froo lunch at a marvelously pretentious restaurant where, as Barbara pointed out to her Aunt Judy whom we visited, 'The usual were there - the older men lunching with their young girlfriends."

Tee hee. It's fun to be catty.


Lily pond at the Blox restaurant