Slow and Easy

by

Sunday in the Sunset.

I could, um, I hesitate to admit this, but, yeah, I could get used to this.

It is almost too mellow for my tastes.

I like to be all get up and go and do and run and jump and bike and move out the way bitch.

But today, with nothing on my plate, nothing, I just showed up and discovered more of my new neighborhood.

I did the typical morning routine, with the exception of getting back into bed for 15 more minutes, why, because why not?  It’s Sunday and the day was a slow start, with a long, lovely burn.

Breakfast, some coffee, some writing, some meditating, and then, a walk.

Right along the Great Highway, right next to the sea.

I watched surfers catch waves, smelled the great salt breeze and shambled slowly from Judah to Quintara.  I had put a Japanese sweet potato in the oven and given myself an hour and a half to walk as far and as leisurely as I wanted.

I figured I would be back to the house by 1:15/1:30 p.m. and I would have my lunch on the back patio, a nice little routine I am enjoying the hell out of.

I called my mom and caught up with her.

I did my best to just look out at the sea and the sky and not think about work, or lack of or what I was going to do with the rest of the day.

Lunch, as I expected, was done when I returned, all stretched out and warm from my walk, and ready for a little mid-afternoon nibble.

Which I took in the back yard nestled into an Adirondack wood chair dressed in faded white paint.

I love how washed out and beachy everything looks.

I like how many people I saw barefoot.

Surfers in wet suits walking with their boards down the sidewalk.

Nothing but their boards, the wet suit, and sunblock on their faces.

It was a gorgeous day out, no fog, all sun.

My phone kept telling me it was chillier than it felt and I wonder how accurate the weather rumours I hear about the Sunset are true.

Then again, I believe, September and October are the prettiest months in San Francisco.  The Indian Summer days are blushed warm and exuberant and sunny.

Don’t tell the tourists.

I love these next few months in the city.

It usually dies off by Halloween, it’s almost like a switch is thrown, but I shall see what will come out here.  I do predict I will be here awhile.

After my lunch I got on the bike and headed up LIncoln toward 9th Avenue.

I wandered around the neighborhood a little, running into a random friend who as it turns out, was at Burning Man and we never saw each other.

Even though I was in her camp on at least four occasions.

Too funny to run into her at a restaurant sitting outside in the sun in the Inner Sunset.

After my tiny nibble of exploration I hopped back on the bicycle and rode a few more minutes to the Botanical Gardens in Golden Gate Park.

I had gotten turned onto to them yesterday and out of curiosity,  I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

It was fuss worthy.

The vast scope of plants and the flowers, the geese in the Great Meadow, the purple Japanese Higo Iris I saw by a small pond, all painted such a beautiful picture I was remiss to think that in all the years I have been in San Francisco, I never explored this part of the park.

I had an inkling it was there, but I never went into it.

I will be going again soon.

In fact, I believe there are all sorts of places out here I will be discovering.

In a slow and leisurely manner.

That seems to be the pace of things out here.

Slowed down.

Except right at Sunset.

Then I saw people actually running toward the beach to catch the last rays of the sun before it dipped into the ocean.

“Tonight the sun goes down at 7:17 p.m.” my friend told me as she pattered about the kitchen putting away dishes and folding laundry, getting things ready for the start of a new week.

“You are more than welcome to join us” she continued, “movie night, dinner, hanging out, the door’s open.”  She concluded and put away another stack of folded kitchen towels.

But the words, the sun sets at, kept ringing in the ears.

I wound my way back downstairs to my spot and had a quick bite of dinner, then I grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and my camera and headed out the door just a few minutes after 7 o’clock.

I watched a door pop open and a girl in bare feet and bikini bottoms and a white tank top, fleet as a golden hart in the woods, ran laughing ahead of her boyfriend who was slow running after in his black worn down Converse and low slung jeans behind her toward the beach.

They dashed over the Great Highway and climbed the dunes to see the view.

The tops of the dunes were daubed with people faces turned out toward the horizon waiting for the last dip of sunshine before ending their days, packing their blankets, and heading back home.

The girl shivered as the sun bent low and her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her and they both faced out.

I dropped my flip-flops in sand and shuffled up the side of another dune, stopping to catch a photograph of the grass topped dunes to my right.

Dunes and grass

Dunes and grass

Then I turned toward the red line on the horizon.

The sunset was not as spectacular as I had hoped, yet, it filled me with a kind of warm wonder as the crimson cream color spread along the edge of the ocean separating the water from the gray cloud bank overhead.

Horizon

Horizon

I stayed for a few more minutes, but it appeared that was all the fireworks that were to happen this sunset.

I suspect I may catch a few more before my time here is done.

I suspect my time here is going to be a long one.

I can feel myself getting rooted in the sand like the grass on top of the dunes.

I walked to the beach twice today, rode my bicycle through the park, went to the Botanical Gardens in Gold Gate Park and ate my meals under the blue sky with the sharp tang of the sea to whet my appetite.

I may get used to this slowing down a lot faster than I think.

I might just become a beach bum.

Sooner rather than later.

 

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