Trawling through the myriad websites listing the top destinations for wildflowers in California, you’ll eventually find mention of Carrizo Plain National Monument.
The west coast has Santa Cruz; New York City has Coney Island; but Rye, NY? Rye has Rye Playland.
Growing up in earshot of the latter seaside park, summers would always be punctuated by the fireworks shows every Wednesday and Friday night that could be seen from my bedroom window. Amid the echoes of the explosions off the neighbor's houses, the clatter of the historic wooden Dragon Coaster rattling along would always leave me breathless as I searched for any audible indication that the coaster hadn't fallen off its tracks or disintegrated into a pile of firewood. The timed screams a few seconds later would indicate that all was well and disaster had been averted. If the wind were right, you could hear snippets from the Grand Carousel, or a 'toot-toot' from the Playland Express, a train that would travel around Kiddyland. Continue reading “Playland Park”
Pisco, a brandy from Peru, became readily available in San Francisco in the 1830s, where it fueled the debauchery of the Barbary Coast.
Nowadays you can enjoy it in a more civilized setting, including the lounge at La Mar, which features Peruvian cuisine. There, you can sample a pisco sour, which was created by a gringo bartender who had moved to Peru in 1904.
If you prefer something that harkens back to the Barbary Coast, try the pisco punch, which was created in 1853 when the Bank Exchange & Billiard Saloon opened on the spot where the Transamerica Pyramid now stands.
We certainly did!
It should come as no surprise to anyone who has followed my photographic journey over the years that the California Poppy is my favorite flower. Also known as the golden poppy, cup of gold, and California sunlight, nothing else evokes for me the sun’s brightness and warmth and a childlike sense of joy than eschscholzia californica.
I awoke before dawn having barely slept the previous night in the dingy motel along the strip of civilization that is the Buttonwillow exit off I-5 that for all I know constitutes Buttonwillow itself.
My plan was to get to McKittrick early and explore, a vision of a Sierra gold rush town transfixed in my mind.
There is nothing more quintessential than apple picking in New England in the fall. It seems to inspire people. Robert Front penned “After Apple Picking,” perhaps after he went apple picking. It makes people fall in love. It ignites hunger, albeit for cider and caramel apples. It provides a tableau for artists of all kinds.