Funny the World...

STORMY WEATHER

April 17, 2000

Those April showers that are supposed to bring May flowers arrived in spades today. Wouldn’t you know that after a week of sunshine, the rain arrived on the day we were driving to San Francisco. We had intermittent showers on the ride down, downright rain on the ride back. (We were listening to Judy Garland's "Stormy Weather," which seemed appropriate!) But I love the rain. I especially love rain at this time of year, because for a very brief period of time, the hills are a lush green and when the rain has blown away, the air is clear, and the sun comes out, there is nothing more glorious.

There aren’t as many green hills now as there used to be. When we were having our house built and I would drive the 1½ hours to check on its progress, it seemed that I went through an awful lot of “countryside.” There wasn’t a lot of settlement east of Berkeley and once you passed Pinole, it was pretty much green hillsides until you got the Vacaville. Now most of that area has been covered in housing tracts. Little boxes full of ticky tacky all looking just the same (where is Malvena Reynolds these days?). I wonder how much more settlement California can take.

When we moved here, we were the newcomers, the upstarts, the people who made the town grow. We lived in “West Davis.” I looked on a realtor’s map the other day and discovered we are smack dab in the middle of “Central Davis.” We haven’t moved, but the town has grown up around us. Gone are the tomato fields and the horse pastures. There are now streets in Davis that I’ve never heard of and we have new telephone exchanges. What is now labeled "West Davis" is about twice what it was when we moved here; East Davis pretty much ended at the "T" on the map below, and South Davis, now a growing industrial area, hardly existed, and North Davis didn't exist. Our house, which is about where the "T" on "Central" is was considered "West Davis." I feel like such an old lady, thinking back to the good old days.

The freeways reflect the growth in this state. On our drive in today it seemed like all of San Francisco was heading east and all of Sacramento was heading west. Where did all these people come from? And where are we all going? The Bay Bridge was backed up to Golden Gate Fields race track in Albany and extended our trip by at least 30-40 minutes. I remember the days when I used to commute from here to San Francisco to work a couple of times a week. Boy, you couldn’t pay me enough to do that now.

However, our afternoon in The City was pleasant. We were attending the 50th birthday party of a friend, an opera singer, and the place was filled with all sorts of theatre types we’ve known for the past 30 years. We tried to decide which of us in the house had been around this particular theatre company the longest and Walt and I won. We aren’t performers, but we “courted” (do people “court” any more?) while ushering for shows at the theatre (I was a cheap date!), so have been hanging around, working behind the scenes, since 1961. Now I really do feel old.

Oh, but we had the best “dip” at the party. In a food processor blend 1 cup of melted butter, 1 cup of olive oil, 2 cans of anchovies, and one head of garlic. That’s it. Blend till smooth (will be liquidy). Serve as a dip for veggies and rounds of French bread. A sure artery-clogger, but worth it. (Can also be made with all olive oil, if you prefer, for less cholesterol.)

I’m rushing to make it through a mountain of dictation by Monday night, as I leave for Santa Barbara on Tuesday morning, for 3 days. No time to write anything lofty or clever for this journal this evening.

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