Staying with Lynn and Phil in Palo Alto, CA is a tasty experience. Good food -- by which I mean not only delicious, but healthy food: fresh seasonal fruits and vegetables from farmers' markets, roadside stands, and their own backyard. California supplies the nation with lettuce and tomato and strawberry, but locally here one can get a seemingly endless variety of produce, better and fresher. On a visit to Carmel to meet cousin Emily, up from San Diego, we passed "Earthbound Farms" among the many beatiful farms, orchards, and nurseries in that lovely valley.

Here's a soup Lynn made last night, that was marvelous.
(Uncle was put off by the idea of "zucchini soup," but he agreed it was delicious... although probably not nearly as good for his heart as the plain vegetable itself.)
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Curried Zucchini Soup (from Sunset Magazine, May 2004)
Amy Shroeder, Auburn, WA
Prep and cook time: About 30 minutes
Makes: 5 cups; 3 to 4 servings

1 onion (about 8 oz), peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 teasppons olive oil
1 pound zucchini, rinsed, ends trimmed, and coarsly chopped. (This was about 3 zucchinis for Lynn).
1 can (15 oz) chicken broth
1 can (14 oz) reduced-fat (light) coconut milk
1 tablespoon curry powder
Salt and white pepper

1) In a 4- to 5-quart pan over medium heat, stir onion and garlic in oil until soft, about 8 minutes.
Add zuchini and 1 cup chicken broth; simmer until zucchini is tender, about 10 minutes.

2) Transfer mixture to a blender; whirl until smooth.

3) Return to pan. Stir in remaining chicken broth, the coconut milk, curry powder, salt and pepper to taste. Stir until hot.

Per serving: 137 cal., 57% (78 cal.) from fat; 5 g protein; 8.7 g fat (4 g sat.), 14 g carbo (1.9 g fiber); 82 mg sodium; 1.8 mg chol.
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As I said, it was delicious.
I imagine one could make a similar soup with other vegetables, but zucchini are so prolific it's always nice to have another use for them.

Lynn in particular has been a marvelous hostess.
She enjoys nice things, and adds little touches like a fresh flower or lit candle to greet me in my room. She and Phil (though I think it's mostly her) also collect beautiful dishes, hand-made pottery and glassware that has a simple, elegant, natural feel. Glazes that swirl and slump rather than being a commercial pattern.

Lynn and I took a trip up to Yosemite. Again, I felt very cared-for. Though I offered to drive, and Lynn offered to let me, I ended up as a passenger the whole time. So I slept and enjoyed the scenery while Lynn navigated the long stretches of California's central valley, kept the car on the road through the incessant mountain curves, and dealt with the holiday drivers who weren't always focused on sharing the road.

We stayed in a cabin that they share with three other families. The first night, we arrived around 10 or 11 pm, but the others weren't due in until closer to midnight. I got a spurt of concern about people stumbling down the stairs with their burdens, espcially if those burdens were sleeping children. Lynn found me a broom so I could sweep the pine-pollen catkins off the steps. We went to bed to the sound of vaguely Eastern-european dance music (well, it could have been Mexican for all I know, but the rhythms were reminiscent of polka). In the morning, only the two youngest children from the other families were awake before we left. They were playing with glow-loops from the night before, and making up songs to amuse themselves. "We're carrying some luggage .. to San- Jo-Se ... " got stuck in my head for several days. Would that adults created songs as fluently!

Lynn and I took two day trips into Yosemite proper. The first day, we did a hike between Taft Point and Sentinel Dome (exquisite; see photos), of about 5 miles total. Lynn was a very enjoyable hiking companion -- we shared an appreciation of the varied and magnificent scenery. We stopped for an hour or more for me to do a drawing of a ridgeline that particularly resisted my attempts to photograph it. Since she has shorter legs than mine, the pace was relatively easy for me, and I could push myself by going back and forth on the trail if I wanted to. Although right after that stop, I pushed up the hill and down again to get my blood flowing, and almost gave myself heat exhaustion. One reason I rarely run is because when I get winded too fast, I taste blood in my throat -- I'm not sure if this is some undiagnosed condition special to me, or something that happens to everybody and I just need to pace myself. But we stopped and ate lunch in the shade, and I was fine.

After that hike, and a brief stop at Glacier Point (Haagen Dazs bars available here), we headed home to the cabin. We arrived just in time for magnificent barbecue. After an emergency creation of barbecue sauce by a savvy mom, we piled around a very full table, (except the teenage son who couldn't be convinced), and ate. Corn on the cob, barbecued pork ribs, salad, broccoli, and good bread. Afterwards, I helped slice fresh peaches from Lynn's parents' trees for a cobbler.

The adults were remarkably interested in me and my family. I was surprised that they would take the time with a relative stranger, but they seemed to remember us fondly from our previous visit. Perhaps they spent more time with my parents (I was about 11, and oblivious to such things as adult conversation when there was an outdoors to explore). One in particular -- Bob? -- flattered my newly aquired "author" status by asking for a reading list. For those who might be interested now that I've mentioned it, here's what came to mind at the time:

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Anything by
M.M Kaye; (historical fiction & mysteries)
Douglas Adams; (British absurdist fiction)
Wm. Shakespeare; (The Bard)
J.R.R. Tolkein; (Lord of the Rings)
Dick Francis; (Horse / crime thrillers)
Roald Dahl; (darkly moral / absurd children's and adult fiction)
and "Lemony Snicket" (A Series of Unfortunate Events.)

Specific books:
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (trans. Fitzgerald?)
The Thousand Nights and a Night (trans. Burton)
Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn
The Christopher Robin series -- House at Pooh Corner, Now We Are Six -- A.A. Milne
Lavondyss
Giftwish

For horse fans:
King of the Wind
Dick Francis
Marguerite Henry

These are based largely on the contents of my "Keep it safe, I want these back!" box from my recent packing, so some are family heirlooms while others are personal favorites.
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I continue to enjoy children -- especially other peoples'. The youngest girl at the cabin, Robin, was gratifyingly appreciative of attention, so I made a point to do quirky things to distract her when she started to melt down over some perceived injustice. (At that age -- 7? 8? -- there is no end to the things that can be percieved as injustice. Especially when one is the youngest of a large group. Pretty much anything that works well for someone else, that isn't for your personal benefit, is cause for alarm.)
So when she protested that the open door was making her cold, effectively pitting her small comfort against the collective comfort of the dozen other people in the room, I said, "Well, I'm too warm, so I'll sit next to you [and see if it makes us both happier]." It worked quite well, though I think the attention did more for both of us than the temperature.

The older girl, Alex, has an interest in horses-as-athletes, so a few additions to my reading list reflect this bias. I also volunteered myself to remove a remarkably tiny splinter from their brother's finger, which took longer than either of us liked, but was ultimately successful.

(No discussion of children in California can be complete without mention of my youngest cousin, Megan Reyes, Marisa and Arthur's daughter. We are babysitting her today, and she is almost as cute and charming in person as she is in the myriads of fine photographs her family loves to take of her. She occupies a good deal of our attention, though since she is still under 18 months the attention is necessary for her safety and our well-being, not just for pleasure.)

The next day, we spent the morning with the more conventional tourist attractions along the valley floor: caught part of a Sunday morning service at the Yosemite chapel, spent far too long shopping in the gift shop, and a much more rewarding length of time in the museum. I particularly enjoyed the Native American museum and model village -- though walking through it, empty, raised echoes of sorrow. The panel listed "ahwanee" or something like it as the local name, for "place like a gaping mouth" or those who live within said place. "Yosemite" was derived from a neighboring tribe's description meaning "some of them are killers." Another source said "Yosemite" was a local Indian word for "Grizzly bear." (Local museum and travel guide book, respectively. It's not impossible that both are true, but I'd take the first as more reliable.)

Walking through the deserted, re-created village, I conceived a desire for a basket-woven cap. These were hand-woven, close-fitting hats, suitable for wearing under the strap of a burden basket. It seemed like a fitting talisman of home, and I wanted to support their continued creation if possible. But there were none to be had.
A small basket of about the same size, lined beautifully on the outside with feathers, was priced at $1000, so perhaps I'd better learn to make my own.

While I'm extolling Lynn's hospitality, I also want to acknowledge Phil's liberal permission for me to use his computer. I've spent several days now, to compose this and other elements of my Web page, and to work out how to use my P900 handheld device with PCs in general. It has sometimes required downloading software or making other modifications that go far beyond what I've experienced as guest privileges on anyone else's machines.

I think I'll leave it now, and go enjoy a bike ride on the bicycle they have dusted off and readied for me to use.