A Day in Bardland...

A very patchy night for me. I woke many times, and each time found it hard to get back to sleep. A head full of roiling ideas, resulting in part from conversations with Bill about community. It’s something of a hole in our lives, both in Los Angeles and in Laguna Beach—and from the fact that we live in neither place full-time. I woke finally at dawn, and took George out for his morning pee as the sun rose over the hills to the east. A lovely spectacle.

We spent some time making a change of plans for the return trip to Los Angeles—a two-day journey, which we had planned to split with a convenience overnight in Davis. On consulting the map and the driving times, however, we decided to look for something closer to half the distance, and settled on Stockton, where we booked a room for the night, and canceled the reservation we had made in Davis. Then a bowl of fruit and cereal to start the day, before heading out to check out the farmer’s market—a great community event, with stalls not only of produce but a variety of crafts reaching in all directions under bright sunlight.



We spent a while perusing the aisles, and came away with some goat’s cheese and some unusual variegated eggplants... and a bouquet for Bill and Zoe...




After the market, we spent a while exploring the area around the old railroad station, where urban development has brought in a number of galleries and cafes. We had particularly wanted to find the Davis and Cline Gallery where our friend Richard Bruland shows his paintings, and were greeted warmly there by Chandra Holsten, the gallery director, and John Davis, the owner. We enjoyed the current exhibit of glass sculpture and subtly erotic drawings by the artist Ann Wolf, and were pleased to have news of another very old friend, Josine Ianco-Starrels, who now lives in the area and acts as adviser to the gallery. Sorry to have missed the chance to see her again.

As usual, we got thoroughly lost again as we searched for somewhere for a bite to eat at lunchtime. Several of the cafes in the area were mysteriously closed—perhaps because we were late for the lunch hour, and we ended up returning to the same spot where we ate yesterday, Pangea, and enjoyed another excellent wrap in downtown Ashland...



Our friend Bill had recommended a walk in the Lithia Park in the center of the city, but we discovered that dogs were not welcome there, even on a leash, and had to be content with a drive past the park...



... and up the hill behind it to explore some of the residential area overlooking the city from the wealthy heights. Then headed back towards the area where Bill and Zoe live, and found some very charming streets where, surprisingly to us, the deer roam happily in the driveways.



We had hoped to take both Bill and Zoe out for dinner, to thank them for their warm hospitality, but unfortunately Zoe was committed to an evening meeting, so we had to be content with Bill alone. He suggested a restaurant on the busy square, where we paused for a taste of the mineral water at the public drinking fountains and climbed the steps to Alex’s to find a table on the balcony in back, overlooking the creek that tumbles down through Zithia Park.


A good, plentiful meal with a pleasant bottle of wine, capped by the awesome spectacle of a meteor streaking through the night sky and disappearing down behind the pine-covered hills. I have seen meteors before, but never one so large, so bright, so seemingly close to the earth’s surface. A truly magical moment to bring our last evening in Ashland to a close.

After dinner, Bill walked us up through the park and across to the Shakespeare Festival theater, where an attendant spotted us peering through the closed gate during a performance of Othello and invited us in to the lobby area while the performance was in progress. He also regaled us with a lot of fascinating information about the history of the theater and about the several other theatrical venues in Ashland. Back at Bill’s house later in the evening, we linked up with the convention and watched the entirety of Hillary Clinton’s speech at the Democratic convention—greatly impressed by her passion and the unambiguous clarity of her message: support Obama, and work like mad for his election.