The Magic of Coit Tower

It always starts with my first glimpse of Coit Tower. It is that feeling that pervades me that magic really does happen here. San Francisco is a magical place.

Coit Tower always reminds me of my uncle, Jeff, who I visited in this wonderful city for a week several years ago. The first place we met up upon our arrival was at the Tower. The view of the city, the bay, the bridges were breathtaking. Jeff then proceeded to lead us down the hill, through people’s gardens, telling us about all the people he had known who lived there. We even saw wild parrots along the way. At that point in time, Jeff had lived in San Francisco over 25 years. He continued to fascinate me, with the insider’s view of this beautiful city, and stories and insight into my own family as well. I feel his spirit here still.

The fog keeps the area shrouded in mystery. It is so beautiful the way it flows over the hills, and then retreats, revealing patches of blue, which then disappear. It is like the mystery is revealed, but only briefly. Little glimpses of the city that sparkles.

When we arrived this week, we headed from the airport directly to the Ferry Terminal building. It was cloudy when we first arrived, and then the sun peeked out for a few moments, revealing Coit Tower atop Telegraph Hill in the distance.

Having a child along on a trip always reminds me to see the magic. Not that I need much of a reminder here. As she was skipping along the sidewalk, she said, “There are sparkles in the sidewalk! It is like it is filled with diamonds or something.” Diamonds indeed. Everywhere there are little gems I observed.

I got here, and was so completely flooded with things I wanted to write, that I was completely overwhelmed. At last my brain had an opportunity to think about something other than my daily to do’s. It actually took me until half way through this journey to be able to still my busy thoughts, and then let my mind flow.

I can’t let myself get that overwhelmed by my life that I forget to observe, and to allow time to record my observances. I must find a way to carve out some time to process things. To linger and enjoy experiences instead of rushing from thing to thing, always rushing. To allow myself to be. To just be.

We are staying in a beautiful house on Tomales Bay. A moving blanket of fog usually tops the green hills across the water. The bay is alive, with different water birds about at all hours. The water can be smooth as glass or choppy as the wind increases. Gorgeous flowers bloom all around. Wild fennel abounds with its yellow lace on thin pale stalks. Hummingbirds hover over red blooms near the deck. Succulents abound on this, the dry side of the bay. There are wild artichokes. There are gray foxes plentiful in the woods ad tall grasses, peeking out and darting along.

Yesterday, I managed a 3-mile hike in my boot. (A week before our departure, I injured my foot somehow. I managed to partially tear a tendon. I have a walking boot thing, which is great, and a cane, which I quickly abandoned.) We hiked around Abbott’s Lagoon, out to the tidal pools of the Pacific. There were few other people on the trail. It was so unspoiled that we could see the paths where deer had walked through the brush, and found a place to lie down. We saw rabbits, and many different birds, hawks, jays, pelicans, quail.

We found a sunny beach, and settled to relax and soak up the sun before the fog eclipsed it again. We had a picnic, with perfect eggs, chicken salad, fresh tomatoes and mozzarella…

The fresh food here is amazing. We had artichokes for dinner last night, with delicious olive oil and lemon. We have dined at The Slanted Door in San Francisco, Chez Panisse in Berkeley, and eaten peaches, dripping with juice over the sink in our kitchen. The markets have such gorgeous local delicious things to eat. With all the fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, eggs, local cheeses and breads…it is food heaven.

A few nights ago, on our way back from a day trip to Berkeley, there was a deer standing right in front of us, at the side of the road, just after the comment, “I haven’t seen a single deer crossing sign.” There she was, a beautiful deer, staring right at us. I said, “I haven’t seen any bear crossing signs either.” Somehow, I don’t think it works like that, Lisa, was the quip returned. Well, this place is magic, and maybe it does. The trip isn’t over yet, and I will find my bear. After all, Coit Tower is somewhere out there on a hill in the distance, occasionally peeking through the fog.