Late yesterday afternoon I went for a paddle. It was glassy, no surf, like Lake Tahoe. I headed out towards the reef, paddling directly into sun low on horizon. You never know with the ocean. It can be gnarly and unfriendly, or lovely and perfect. Which it was yesterday. No surfers at all.

   My paddleboard (Joe Bark 12′ Surftek) just flew on the smooth water, it felt like the sun was pulling me, I had a wake. Ready to head for Hawaii. Well, not.

I got some seaweed at the reef, started paddling back. Up in front of me was a Western Grebe, floating. Elegant black and white head and neck. He didn’t seem concerned as I got closer. Then he dove, just under the surface, completely submerged, spun around, then came up and gulped down the little fish he’d snagged.

   I got closer and closer and this dude was not concerned. I passed within a few feet of him and he just kept up swimming, diving, eating. I hung out with him for maybe 5 minutes. What a great end to the day.

   Occasionally an animal (or bird) lets me into their world. Field mice around my feet when I was 12, conversations with owls (several times), a loon that rocketed underneath my paddleboard one day, an elegant grey fox that used to show up when we barbecued, coyotes more than once with their penetrating savvy out in the hills…

   Dried out seaweed on woodstove last night, this morning turned it to rough powder in the blender, now putting on eggs, meat, potatoes. Salt + ocean flavors.

Photo: Wikipedia (no indication of photographer)

It’s an impossibly beautiful morning, just exquisite. California blue skies. Fields on ridge have blush of green — early rains. Nights getting colder. Stars. Moon a week away from full. Red apples in trees, blue in sky, green on hills, warm morning sun. I’m taking a break from (the final stages of) Tiny Homes on the Move (I swear it’s getting better by the day) to write this.

More reggae I’m listening to “Train to Skaville,” archived on https://www.dancehallreggae.org, thanks to a comment by Gill. I missed out on most of this music back in its day. It just feels so right. I love it. Makes me happy. What a great site. Free.

On this morning’s SFGate:

“S.F. man lost in woods, survives on squirrels, lizards

A 72-year-old San Francisco man was recovering Sunday after he spent 19 days lost in a remote canyon of Mendocino County, surviving on squirrels, lizards and berries, and wrapping himself in leaves and grass to stay warm.…”

Techies in San Francisco I hear (and read) a lot these days about the rich techies pricing out the less affluent in SF.

From Socketsite:

“The average rent for a studio in San Francisco is now $2,312 a month, up 8.7 percent year over year …
The average rent for a San Francisco apartment in general is $2,899 a month, up 3.4 percent from the first quarter of 2013 and 6 percent higher year-over-year, with one-bedrooms averaging $2,782 a month and two-bedrooms with two baths up to $3,791.”

I wonder what % of these people are techies. What about lawyers, financial wonks, other corporate fat-checks? Whatever, it’s too bad. $3k per month rent is 100K in 3 years. Tiny homes, anyone?

On being native I was talking to a Mill Valley cab driver a while ago. He was thinking of leaving. I said, Look, you’re a native, you’ve got to use your knowledge and experience to figure out how to stay. You know your way around. Don’t give up. Be creative. Hang in. Whenever I meet a native San Franciscan, I say so am I — we’re an endangered species, always gets a laugh.

Bounty from beach These days if I’m not getting mussels, I gather seaweed and crab shells, stuff into plastic bags in my daypack, throw on compost pile when I get home, chop up with machete, turn into compost — which I’ve finally got figured out. This pile (5’x5′, 2-3′ high) is steaming, worms are thick. Every single scrap of food (that doesn’t go to the chickens) from 40 years is in our soil, which gets better each year. Speaking of which:

Symphony of the Soil, DVD by Deborah Koons Garcia

Was reviewed in NYTimes last week by Jeannette Catsoulis here. “Infused with an infectious love for its subject, ‘Symphony of the Soil’ presents a wondrous world of critters and bacteria, mulch and manure. Maintaining this layer in all its richness and diversity is, the film argues, perhaps our most critical weapon against climate change. At the very least, you will leave with the profound understanding that feeding our soil is the first step in feeding ourselves.”

“We don’t grow plants, we grow soil. And the soil grows the plants.”

        – A farmer talking about composting