A year in the life, living on the edge...

A Year in the life, living on the edge of the Redwood Forest... breathing new life into a very old place. In a sleepy little hollow of the Redwood forest along the Central Californian Coast, my ancestors came, were given a land grant by the then President of the United States, Ullysses S. Grant, in 1876, and built the original cabin which remains as the cozy golden kitchen to this day. The last thirty or so years have not been kind to the 137 year old gal, and by Janurary of 2012, that year of "doom", she had all but slid down the hillside, a broken down pile of rotting wood and right into the Notley Creek, named after my great great grandmother, Francis. Oh she must be turning in her grave... which by and by the way, resides only a short drive down the highway at the entrance to Santa Cruz... they are all there... so I know they are all watching as well! Word is that cemetary is the most notoriously haunted around...word musta come down that the Notleys are still hanging around... in very cold, dark and wet black holes..... Word is that the evil no-good doer in the holiday community production this year was named "Notley Anygood"... No doubt sent here by their English Ancestors to pillage our sweet little old lady. Because, that is exactly what happened when I had found it on New Year's Day 2012. Oh, this year was going to get off with a glorious BANG! The dear cabin had become a cold, dark and wet hole in the family and the sincere lack of the ability of anyone in the family to give it the time and care is so desperately needed after 30 years of sitting alone and vacant, just to get it a tiny bit warm and dry again, had brought the whole grand history of our ancestral heritage into a complete disgrace. I arrived back at the cabin on that New Year's Day after two solid months of my inner intuition screaming at me through the busy "holly daze", "GO TO THE CABIN! SOMETHING IS WROING! GO TO THE CABIN!" as to not be ignored. So we took that glorious scenic drive along Skyline, on the crest of the Costal Redwood Forest, from Marin County to Santa Cruz on what appeared to be the most glorious, gorgeous day of crisp winter air and brilliant shining sunshine. Good thing because I was going to need it... breathe deep... and brace yourself! Fill'er up?! Upon entering the kitchen, through the hallway front window no less, because I knew I could get in through that window as I had been the one to nail it shut the last time I had been here. Breaking into my own cabin like a common thief, as the whole key situation was a mind-boggle in and of itself, I began to survey the damage... For the first time in my life, my mouth literally dropped open with astonishment and horror. There were very large chopping knives jammed into all the door and window jambs, all furnature had been dismantled, complete with the plugs cut off the lamp cords. The kitchen windows had been spray painted out in a thick and sickening shade of brown (that did not match the kitchen decor, of further insult!) and there was now installed in the bedroom, an alter to Hitler complete with its own set of very pointy knives of sorts. After I recovered from the body feeling that coursed through me upon discovery that I still can't describe, I drew in a deep breath of musty cold wet mold and mildew, I rolled up my sleeves and got right to work... this was an omen! And, this was going to be the clean-up of all clean-ups. I had been working as an "industrial cleaner" in Marin, mostly multi-million dollar homes, contractor clean-up with all the new, fancy surfaces and products. But here, there were not fancy surfaces, there were no surfaces near at all... they had pulled out the kitchen drawers and they were missing... presumed burned for firewood! This was gong to get way down and dirty! For, a long time to come. Good thing I had no idea what was coming down the road ~ I just wanted to cry as all the sweet childhood memories of summers spent here with Grammy and my cousins flooded back through the annals of time in my mind.. of this being the place where we always fell into the summer's love, in love, with who this year, the Summer of Love generation. I still have the hand-painted "Love" sign that I convenient "swooped" when I was 13 from the signpost up the road. It was a real house, owned by the "Loves" that turned into a naked hippy commune, it was their sign for their house, but I just wanted to make sure that Love stayed in the neighborhood, in my arms, in my possession. Besides it is such a cool sign that I had not "saved" it, someone else would have just pillaged and wrecked it anyway! Just like the cabin! This place had now become known as "the hood" and apparently, thieves abound and have for quite some time! So this was to become the year, 2012, where I brought back the Love to the cabin. After all, I live on an incoming earth vortex and everything I have needed... has shown up plus alot more... Trust that! So I did! More to come....