Every year about this time, I wait for the subject of this letter to present itself. I was not to be disappointed. On a recent rainy day ride through the mountains on my way to Ukiah, I was delighted to note that through all the drear and rain there were many trees and bushes decked out for the holidays. How nice of God to trim the trees for Christmas! Besides the visual joy, each one allows me to savor a memory of my years in Mendocino County.
The Buckeye Tree is an interesting specimen. Its fat yellow-beige seedpods hang naked at the end of the branches like extra-terrestrial ornaments. I first encountered them hiking in what I refer to as the "Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid" hills between Ukiah and Mendocino. The Comptche-Ukiah Road leaves Highway One and cuts through the town of Comptche on the way to the county seat, offering a stunning (if serpentine) 35-mile trip. This route traverses some of the most beautiful country one could hope to visit. It was here, while I was looking at a piece of land, that I first held a buckeye seedpod in my hand. I turned it over and over not sure what I had. As I held it in my hand that first time, I saw the herd of elusive fallow, white deer that made its home in those canyons. It was a rare and beautiful sight that is still is vivid in my memory. Here, too, I cataloged my first Golden Eagle. Since then the buckeye is for me, an almost mystical thing! To this day, when I see these trees with their comical crop, I am reminded of that magical day.
The sight of an apple tree still heavy with unpicked fruit is not exotic in the Anderson Valley. This natural Christmas décor is a charming reminder that even though the tree's branches are void of leaves, these shriveling fruits are a promise of another crop and another year. Now that our own apple trees are mature and sometimes still have lingering apples long past harvest, I remember the excitement Ernie and I felt when we planted them as "whips."
I view the pyrocanthan as another winter gift. The thicker the berries the deeper the winter, I am told. Because they are so engorged with tight-packed berry clusters, this year's crop makes the branches themselves seem like fat, long red-orange fingers waving to me in the wind. The birds — decorations in their own right — are delighted that the cotoneaster bushes have offered up such a bumper crop of the crimson fruit they love. The juicy berries ferment in their tiny bellies and make them great fun to watch as they try to fly away with less than their usual grace after the feast.
There are so many wonders here in Mendocino — both natural and man-made — that I never tire of cataloging them or of being grateful that I've been here to enjoy them firsthand. As always, I want to thank you for your patronage this year and hope you will remember me if you come this way. I send my wishes to you and yours for a very Merry Christmas and a New Year filled with wonder.
The Buckeye Tree is an interesting specimen. Its fat yellow-beige seedpods hang naked at the end of the branches like extra-terrestrial ornaments. I first encountered them hiking in what I refer to as the "Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid" hills between Ukiah and Mendocino. The Comptche-Ukiah Road leaves Highway One and cuts through the town of Comptche on the way to the county seat, offering a stunning (if serpentine) 35-mile trip. This route traverses some of the most beautiful country one could hope to visit. It was here, while I was looking at a piece of land, that I first held a buckeye seedpod in my hand. I turned it over and over not sure what I had. As I held it in my hand that first time, I saw the herd of elusive fallow, white deer that made its home in those canyons. It was a rare and beautiful sight that is still is vivid in my memory. Here, too, I cataloged my first Golden Eagle. Since then the buckeye is for me, an almost mystical thing! To this day, when I see these trees with their comical crop, I am reminded of that magical day.
The sight of an apple tree still heavy with unpicked fruit is not exotic in the Anderson Valley. This natural Christmas décor is a charming reminder that even though the tree's branches are void of leaves, these shriveling fruits are a promise of another crop and another year. Now that our own apple trees are mature and sometimes still have lingering apples long past harvest, I remember the excitement Ernie and I felt when we planted them as "whips."
I view the pyrocanthan as another winter gift. The thicker the berries the deeper the winter, I am told. Because they are so engorged with tight-packed berry clusters, this year's crop makes the branches themselves seem like fat, long red-orange fingers waving to me in the wind. The birds — decorations in their own right — are delighted that the cotoneaster bushes have offered up such a bumper crop of the crimson fruit they love. The juicy berries ferment in their tiny bellies and make them great fun to watch as they try to fly away with less than their usual grace after the feast.