Showing posts with label California summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label California summer. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Flying Kites Is... Pure Joy and Laughter in the Sun


It is an amazing experience to fly a kite... A month, two months passed, and I'm still playing with kites at least twice per week, every week. In my previous post, I showed you my six kites and what they could do. Some had issues, were unbalanced and crashed too frequently instead of soaring high above. 


First, I worked on the butterfly a bit and cut its streamers in half, adding a central set, as well as two googly eyes, so the weight would be distributed better, with more weight in the center, and the extra streamers to stabilize the flight. And so they did. The blue Butterfly stopped flipping over and crashing within 10 seconds of lifting up, instead, it soared towards the sun. 

The Blue Butterfly 1: https://youtu.be/IknSaGveNHo

The Blue Butterfly 2: https://youtu.be/OqBDIPHCIWE




The Butterfly soared next to a column of light, a huge ray shining straight down, so dazzling bright! The sky was clear of any chemical garbage that day, and brightened by light at one p.m.

The Laughing Dolphin soared in sunlight, too. How light, how beautiful. The wind was dying out, though, so the Dolphin landed while I filmed it. Pure joy of flight. 

Laughing Dolphin 4: https://youtu.be/wsv8V77H4gc


Later, I replaced the very long and heavy tail ribbons, so it could be easier for the kite to take off. Taller than me, and narrow,  the dolphin does not have enough wing "acreage" for proper lift-off. However, once up in  the air, it flies around, swooping and diving, making huge circles above the ground. This means, it is not  stable and well balanced yet. More work on the ribbons, then.  When the moon is out at daytime, the dolphin laughs right next to it.  So cute! 

Laughing Dolphin 5: https://youtu.be/uZOdkTaqTts, dance around the moon.


Two weeks later, I went to Hermosa Beach with kids and had not one, but three kites in the air at the same time.  The ocean breeze blows steadily inland, much stronger and steadier than the twirling winds in the foothills, affected by the topography of the hills and valleys. My diamond rainbow kite, the simplest one, was accompanied by the sharkie with geometric patterns, and the blue butterfly. After I tied them up to our beach tent, they were up in the air for several hours, floating this way and that... 


https://youtu.be/g6XXJTEu7t0 Three kites in Hermosa Beach

https://youtu.be/sdmvgIIlyfY Three kites in Hermosa Beach 2

https://youtu.be/moww1KD2xGs  Three kites in Hermosa Beach 3

When the wind got too strong and the butterfly wings bent too much,  it started veering to the right and threatening to crash among the beach-goers. So, I had to take it down, and replaced it with the swirling circle, thinking that its stronger wiring would withhold the gusts of wind. Alas, it did not fly too high either. .  . 

After getting back to my favorite kiting grounds on the Trail of the Valley in Big Tujunga Wash, I played again with the dolphin. The long, heavy, plastic ribbons made it hard for the kite to take off, so I replaced them with bunches of semi-transparent fabric ribbons, sparkling in sunlight.

Finally, I was able to write a poem about flying kites. I will add it to my "The Rainy Bread" collection of war-themed, tragic and dramatic poems. It will provide some uplift at the end. With a bit of thin paper, string, sticks and glue, you can fly a kite even during the worst times, and it will take your spirit soaring among the clouds...



≡ FLYING KITES... ≡


My kites respond faithfully to each tug of the string, 

like pets on a leash. Sometimes, they wantonly resist 

the pull, to crash-land on brush-covered hillside. 




The strange, geometric delta champion, with black-and-white

checkers on its chest, rainbow wings and tail, flaps its fins 

as a flying fish that floats higher and higher, into the azure.


The swirling circle, a tribute to the ingenuity of unknown

engineers, is an air turbine, turning so fast that it seems ready 

to power a lightbulb or open a portal to another universe.


The green baby dragon with red wingtips and streamers 

capriciously turns here and there. Unstable, garishly bright, 

it falls suddenly onto a thicket of dry chaparral bushes. 




The golden macaw, enormous and silent, is so different 

from its loud, obnoxious cousins. My parrot blissfully swings 

from left to right, in an ethereal waltz of gold and red ribbons. 




The laughing dolphin soars straight up – I look up to follow 

the pathway of this magnificent guardian of the world, 

crossing the ocean of air, so alive in oxygen blue.




Flying kites is defying gravity. Flying kites is pure joy. 

This is freedom itself, soaring towards the Sun, 

circling around the Moon, tracing patterns among clouds. 




My favorite is the simple diamond of colorful squares –

red, yellow, green, blue, violet – that shines in sunlight,

twirling on the end of its string, pointing the way home. 





We used to make such diamonds of thin balsa wood

sticks and light parchment paper, our hands stained by glue. 

The tail, a row of paper bowties tied to a string, undulated 

above dark soil of potato fields, stretching to the horizon. 

  


Flying kites is like love making to the air –

a dance of give and take – moving, shifting along

air currents that swirl above the hills at sunset.


Flying kites is an apology for years lost to not being 

little children that skip along the path, straight to heaven.  

Flying kites is prayer, supplication, hymn of praise. 



Flying kites is defying gravity. Flying kites is pure joy. 

This is freedom itself, soaring towards the setting Sun, 

circling around the Moon, tracing patterns among clouds. 


It is like swimming in the air, below a violet butterfly 

with outstretched wings, ascending into the purity of distance, 

along the pillar of light that connects the Earth and the Sky.









Flying kites on the beach and in the mountains:


Redondo Beach, California
https://youtu.be/otEVtfnbOGM (Kite Festival)

Mandalay Beach, Oxnard, California 
Three Kites high up in the clouds: https://youtu.be/foOY2QZmRBc
Three Kites, continued: https://youtu.be/lan3bq45A9s

Hermosa Beach, dancing kites, soaring high above:
https://youtu.be/g6XXJTEu7t0 Three kites in Hermosa Beach
https://youtu.be/sdmvgIIlyfY Three kites in Hermosa Beach
https://youtu.be/OB27nE1uFIs Swirling Circle in Hermosa Beach

Kites in Angeles National Forest mountains, Rim of the Valley Trail:
Butterfly Diamond: https://youtu.be/jWyrVsv9yYY (2023)
Butterfly Diamond: https://youtu.be/XKKyqWyoxOk (2023)
Diamond Butterfly: https://youtu.be/ddCJsAOOGlc (strong wind, unstable)
Flying Diamond: https://youtu.be/EveaI9O8Qsk (blue skies)
Swirling Circle: https://youtu.be/9C3p-KhHnOU (above hills)
Delta Sharkie: https://youtu.be/YJuFji99JY8 (chemtrail stripes)
Blue Butterfly 2: https://youtu.be/OqBDIPHCIWE
Laughing Dolphin 1: https://youtu.be/BtXErYfMxuE (skies with chemtrails)
Laughing Dolphin 2: https://youtu.be/-Vj7DEXVZSs (skies with chemtrails)
Laughing Dolphin 3: https://youtu.be/_i2HaGGGoyU (blue skies, one stripe)
Laughing Dolphin 4: https://youtu.be/wsv8V77H4gc (in sunlight)
Laughing Dolphin 5: https://youtu.be/uZOdkTaqTts (dancing around the moon)


 





Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Poets' Picnic in Benicia - 8/6/11

On Saturday, August 6, from noon to 4 p.m., Poets Laureate of California will have a reunion in First Street Park with Gazebo (Military and First Street) in Benicia, California.

Organized by Benicia's Poet Laureate, Ronna Leon, the Poets' Picnic is subtitled "Grassroots Poetry on the Grass" and will include readings by Poets Laureate or Poets Laureate Emeriti and their Poetry Communities during an afternoon of poetry, food, and discussion. All guests are asked to bring a Cold Picnic Dish to share. The Benicia poetry group will supply watermelon and beverages. Listeners are also encouraged to bring a poem to put in a picnic basket for a chance to have it read by a Poet Laureate in the reading.

The reading by Poets Laureate is from 2:30 to 4:00 pm and will include the following poets (who will read their own work and poems picked at random from the picnic basket):

*Cynthia Bryant, Pleasanton, 2005-07, 2011-12
*Terry Ehret, Sonoma County, 2004-06
*Joel Fallon, Benicia, 2006-08
*Deborah Grossman, Pleasanton, 2009-11
*Parthenia Hicks, Los Gatos, 2010-12
*Ronna Leon, Benicia, 2010-12
*Juanita Martin, Fairfield, 2010-12
*Janell Moon, Emeryville 2010-12
*Connie Post, Livermore, 2005-09
*Mary Rudge, Alameda, 2002 ongoing
*Robert Shelby, Benicia, 2008-10
*Allegra Silberstein, Davis, 2010-12
*Gary Silva, Napa County, 2008-10
*Maja Trochimczyk, Sunland-Tujunga, 2010-11
*Cher Wollard, Livermore, 2010-14
*Ronnie Holland, Dublin 2008-2010
*Ruth Blakeney, Crockett, 2006




Ronna Leon's previous and ongoing project was placing "Poem Homes" around her community of Benicia. These sturdy and decorative containers, somewhat resembling birdhouses, included copies of poems sent in from around California by poets who wanted to participate. The poems were printed out and distributed via the Poem Homes - people could just pick up and take home a poem they selected in one of the Poem Homes that could be found in various offices, stores, and community locations around Benicia. What a sweet idea!

Another great idea that Ronna has brought to fruition was taking portraits of all Poets Laureate in California, and illustrating them with a short quote from a poem and a handwritten signature by each poet. These black-and-white portraits are certainly a fascinating gallery of spiritual and artistic personalities. My portrait was taken in the library of John Steven McGroarty, California Poet Laureate in the 1930s, whose home now serves as a community arts center in Sunland-Tujunga. In the portrait, I'm holding the heart filled with laurel leaves that is passed on from one poet to the next during the solemn ceremony. I organized a poetry booth at their puppetry festival in 2010 and was teaching a poetry class to kids that summer. We held some of our sessions in the historic library, filled with vintage photos, books, and memorabilia. I would not mind moving in to that room, to spend my afternoons thinking poetic thoughts while looking at the pines surrounding the mansion and at the mountains beyond.

While my participation in the Poets' Picnic is not certain, I have contributed the following selections to the Poem Homes: Tiger Nights, Buddha with Swans, Skydance, "Look at me..." and Rose Window. I have already reprinted in this blog the Buddha with Swans and the Rose Window, the other three poems, were published earlier in various venues.

Two of these pieces will soon appear in a discussion of Moonday Poetry reading in August. The third poem that I submitted to Ronna Leon's Poem Homes, is entitled Skydance and belongs with a series of poems associated with paintings and other artwork created at Manzanar Internment Camp. This historical site documents a dark page in American history: the WWII internment of Japanese-Americans suspected of wrongdoing as potential "enemies of the state", though not proven guilty. Their lives and careers destroyed, the Japanese-Americans showed a remarkable resilience when they returned to their communities and started to rebuild their lives.

Some, like Henry Fukuhara, a former prisoner, painter and organizer of the annual plein-air workshops, have never forgotten and hoped to make Manzanar an example of darkness overcome by light, of suffering erased by creativity. A Japanese-American photographer, survivor, artist and poet, Beth Shibata, is a frequent contributor to these workshops and has inspired many members of the Pasadena group, Poets on Site. In 2010, she made a collage of a photo of the mountains and paper cranes that permeate the landscape and ... my poem.

Skydance

~ to Henry Fukuhara and the prisoners of the Japanese Internment Camp at Manzanar

the mountains rose and fell
with their glory useless –
trapped in time they did not
think they’d make it –
days so long, stretched
to the horizon, mindless

and the sky danced above them
avalanche of paper cranes


it was not a time for joy
the landscape said –
bleak, unforgiving,
it was not that time yet –
in gaps between minutes
a shadow rose, a breath

and the sky danced above them
spring dreams of paper cranes


contours remembered,
felt in the fingertips
filled the world with color
faded pastels, knowing,
pale rainbow, hues
of distance, serenity

and the sky danced above them
paper cranes, oh, paper cranes


This poem, inspired by Shibata's art is dedicated to her master. Similarly to the poem "Look at me.." the narrative form is structured around the irruptions of a brief refrain, bringing the dance of the sky down to the earth and the painter's canvas. Henry Fukuhara lost his sight and painted from memory; his friends and associates continued to surround him and draw inspiration from his joie-de-vivre.

Skydance was published in Poets on Site chapbook on the Exhibition of art from the Annual Plein-Air Workshop at Manzanar and Alabama Hills, held in September 2010. The chapbook belongs to a series of ekphrastic poetry chapbooks edited by Kathabela Wilson. The series continues and the future Poets on Site projects will include my voice.

_______________________________________

Maja Trochimczyk's Portrait as Poet Laureate of Sunland-Tujunga, (c) 2010 by Ronna Leon, used by permission.

Poetry and photos (c) 2009-2011 by Maja Trochimczyk. Photos taken in Sunland, Granada Hills, and at Lake Elisabeth, California.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Roses and Roses Without End

An insightful poet and photographer, George Jisho Robertson, who lives in London, England, posted a sweet set of rose photographs on Facebook, with many of the flowers captured chiaroscuro, their pastel colors contrasting with rich, verdant leaves of the rosebushes. George likes to blur parts of pictures and some of the artistically transformed photos are striking, appearing more transient and poetic than the real blossoms. (Other photos, changed into black and white, remind me of the portraits of the deceased on their tombstones, found in old cemeteries in Europe - no, I do not like those monuments of the dead).

The photo included here, of a "Chicago Peace" rose covered with raindrops (or, rather, as the case may be, drops of water from the sprinklers), looks like candied confection, a marzipan. It is delicate and pale, but it is not from misty England. I took it in my garden in Southern California, and posted in an album of 48 rose photos, called Rose and Roses, on my website.

A red "Mr. Lincoln" rose, with round water droplets spaced regularly along the edge of petals, reminded me of notes of music and I used that photo as a label for my "Chopin with Cherries" blogs. Other roses I saw through the lenses of my camera were completely covered in droplets of rain, shining like polished crystals or diamonds. My rain roses of the spring.

None of these roses, neither those in George's photographs, nor even those that are fading in the mellow fog of English countryside, have the tell-tale signs of Southern California heat: petals scorched by sunlight, shrivelling as they open. In the summer, all luscious, opulent blooms bear those heat marks. Their demise starts from the edges.

Seeing their struggles, one becomes mindful of transience and of the manifold and futile efforts we make to protect ourselves from our untimely demise - anti-wrinkle creams and lotions, injections, peels and masks... If all else fails, a lot of make-up. True, our lifespans exceed those of roses, but the efforts to transcend time are futile, all in vain. Inevitably, we'll fade away, just like these sun-singed roses!















You can see more scorched roses in my Rose and Roses album. The photo reproduced here was taken during the Station Fire, when all the mountains around were burning and the powdery white and gray ash kept falling down on my garden for weeks. There is an intense beauty in those last moments of a dying flower, don't you think? Like fireflies we dazzle in the summer, at dusk.


Rose Garland

I thought roses.
I thought rich, velvet blossoms.
I thought a red rainbow
from deep crimson to delicately pinkish.

The secret was underground
where the roots sustain
the multi-hued orgy of sensuous allure –
flowers opening to dazzle and fade.

The strength of the rose
is invisible – you see the blush
of seduction in each leaf and petal,

You admire their charms.
Yet, you care for what’s out of sight,
not for the obvious.

I thought your love.
I thought how you adore me.
I went deeper down to the source.

The rose, Sappho’s lightning
of beauty, breathes love,
laughs at the wind and wonders.

The mystic rosebush dances,
crowned with the royal
garland of fire.




Some of the "rose" and "love" poems were included in this blog to celebrate Valentine's Day with a reflection on the nature of love, spanning a rainbow, from eros to charity. I tried to capture the essence of loving defined both as a feeling and an act. Thousands of poets and writers did that before me. Lyricists of country songs still do that, but "real" artists and creators of "high art" look upon the subject of love with disdain, as if new expressions of ancient and timeless romantic ideas were somehow found unworthy of a serious literary effort. Lucky me, than, that I am not serious. (Only by being entirely non-serious about myself, can I stay alive). For this abandonment of love and roses, you may blame post-modern irony and ironists if you want, or Adorno with his declaration that poetry after the ravages of the Holocaust is dead...

We can be dead with the dead, or alive with the roses, the choice is ours.

______________________________________

RELATED POSTS: "What is Love? The Valentine's Day Reflections"

Love After Love: Poems For Valentine's Day

The Rose and Roses Album was posted in October 2010.

All photos and poetry (c) 2008-2011 by Maja Trochimczyk.