Libations

 

Libations

Noel Laflin

7-16-21

Twenty of us stepped aboard a gleaming white vessel this warm, July morning; we all found places to stand or sit and talk as the boat quietly made its way through Newport Harbor, past the former home of The Duke, the old Pavilion, the Lido Ferry, whale watchers returning from the hunt, folks on paddleboards, and finally past the thousands of grey colored breakwater stones.

The pace was slow, deliberate, and the water smooth as glass.

We were paying final tribute to a friend, and everyone (crew and passengers alike) was pleased that the weather was being brilliantly cooperative.

At the appropriate point, the captain cut the engines, a prayer was said, and ashes were presented to the sea - all within distance of the man’s former childhood home just off the coast.

A brown pelican passed overhead.

Red roses were lovingly tossed off the bow.

The vessel then gracefully circled where ashes sunk and roses floated.

Filled champagne glasses magically appeared, distributed to young and old alike by the first mate.

A toast was raised to our honored friend and glasses were drained – some libations poured over the railing and into the sea itself.

We then headed back from whence we started.

 

Putting Down Roots

 

Putting Down Roots

Noel Laflin

7-14-21

There’s an old plum tree stump that really needs to be removed one of these days as I could use the space to plant something new in its place.

I was already to do just that earlier this spring when a colony of bumble bees decided to move into the rotting stump and call it home.

As I like bumble bees - and as the planet is in dire need of every bee available for the foreseeable future - the removal project is on hold. Come the fall, the queen will leave this space and set up headquarters elsewhere – or so I have noticed with other hives around here in the past.

But suppose she decides to stay in her new home, tired of the constant moving. It’s pretty nice in there by now, I suppose, as I have been watching the workers enlarge the holes in which they come and go, burrowing down old termite tunnels, enlarging them with each passing.  It almost makes me wish I had a teeny-tiny drone that could fly into one of the holes and investigate, sending back pictures. It would be like a scene from the old classic, “Fantastic Voyage;” only I wouldn’t be on a miniaturized mission to unclog a dying man’s artery.  No, I would just like to see what’s going on inside the old tree that used to provide us with so many plums, and for now, the bumble bees call home.

So, we’ll hold off on tree stump removal for now.

And maybe longer if the queen decides that our garden is a pretty nice place to call home, and put down roots of a different sort from the ones that were here earlier.

Fifty Years Ago

Fifty Years Ago

Noel Laflin

6-30-21

Fifty years ago right about now, and give or take a decade either way, Ahwahnee would have been hosting its first week of campers. Records indicate that Camp averaged around two hundred visitors a week. This would be repeated for another seven or eight weeks each summer. 

During its twenty years as an active Scout camp, that meant that somewhere around thirty thousand folks, both young and old, spent a week at Ahwahnee, not to mention hundreds of young men, along with a handful of women, serving as staff members all of those years.

That's got to account for a lot of memories.

Flitting Thoughts

Flitting Thoughts

Noel Laflin

6-15-21

I was sitting in the fragrant shade of a lone orchid tree yesterday morning waiting for a hummingbird or two to come in and fly from pretty bloom to bloom. I have watched this very scene before, and it never gets old. There are still a few blossoms on the gnarly old tree drawing in bees of course, but I was hoping for a hummingbird. One did flit by eventually, but he was too quick, too high up, and clearly too practical to pose for a picture.

A woman I met here a few weeks ago told me that a pair of elderly brothers planted this tree years ago. As to why, she did not know. But when it blooms throughout the entire month of May, and then into the next month, well, perhaps the brothers knew what kind of gift they were bestowing upon future generations, including the old guy crouched below its splendor, waiting for fickle little birds, but until then, enjoying both its fragrance and shade on a warm June morning years later.

Tiger Radio

 

Tiger Radio

Noel Laflin

6-14-21

As I recall, if you wanted to tune into a radio station while at camp back in the 1960’s, KFXM, 590 on the AM dial, was about your only choice.

It wasn’t a bad choice at all – just the only one – at least on the small transistor radio tucked away in our plywood dwelling out in Sherwood Forest, and a couple of summers later holed up in The Land of Nod (old Commissioner Area C – Cherokee, Blackfoot, Geronimo, and Tielroy).

I grew so fond of the 590 format, the DJ’s, the songs (obviously) that I would try to tune it in back home – hoping to catch a tune that would remind me of the summer of 1966, 1968, or 1969.

If atmospheric conditions were right, I could hold the distant station while I did homework in my room, or falling asleep - all the while hoping to hear something from the Grass Roots, Dylan, or Elvis, just one more time.

Lunch with Mary

 

Lunch with Mary

Noel Laflin

6-13-21

Many years ago I took my good friend Mary out to lunch at a local Red Lobster Restaurant.

After scanning the menu, I happened to look up at an old black and white framed photo on the wall behind Mary.  It had been blown up to nearly poster size. It was a good shot – not grainy in the least.

“Hey, when you get a chance, look at the cool picture behind you.  It looks like Laurel and Hardy in a little dingy off a beautiful rocky coast somewhere. They are both holding fishing poles and looking rather relaxed.  There’s one other guy motoring the dingy – must be the captain, judging by his hat. It’s a cool picture.”

Mary set down her menu and turned to look.

“Oh, Good Lord, that’s my father!”

“Obviously the third guy in the skipper’s hat?”

“Yup, that’s pop alright. And that’s his boat.  He ran a small fishing service off of Catalina Island for years.  He would take paying customers to remote lagoons, or wherever the fish liked to hang out. He used to mention some of the famous folks that sought him out.  But gosh, I’ve never seen this picture before.”

About then, the server came by to take our order.

We both had fish.

Nuts About the Future

 Nuts About the Future

Noel Laflin

6-8-21

 

Acorns were scattered throughout the backyard last fall as I wanted to surprise the neighborhood squirrels. Since the closest oaks are across the street and down near the pond, I thought I would save the critters a trip across a busy throughway.

I started to gather pocketful's of nuts after strong winds knocked them out of the Coastal Live Oaks. There were piles of them around many of the old trees.

Of the ones I bought home, I'd either line up on the fence, or place on the stepping stones. Some I pushed gently down into the rich soil thinking the squirrels would sniff them out eventually.

The squirrels did find all of the acorns in quick order - or so I assumed.

But while weeding today I scratched my fingers on some sharp little leaves popping out of the ground.

It's a baby Live Oak, by golly.

Glad the squirrels missed that one. But if that oak seedling thrives, as I have no doubt it will, future generations will thank their distant ancestors.  And maybe even me.