Jack in the Beanstalk Land

All right then, the fog is back. At this point, we'd welcome the bugs that come with hot, sunny days in the country. The ridge is wrapped in cloud, all is quiet, even the birds' dawn chorus is silent.

All edges soften, as if we've burrowed into drifts of cotton gauze, and shapes on the horizon blur. Up close, the colors of the garden pop with intensity. Condensation falls like raindrops from the trees, damp cobwebs shimmer in the grass. Today we can watch a movie, drink hot chocolate, play scrabble. Yet, we are longing for the sun.

Yesterday morning, we had a few delicious moments above the fog, one of my most favorite experiences here. It's as if we've become residents of a mystical archipelago, with ridge-top islands stretching up and down the coast. All we have to do is summon a golden boat and sail over a sea of clouds. So felt the lucky few who made it to the top of Mount Olympus, home of the gods.

Grandiose metaphors aside, the one we prefer in our rustic, hobbit-home, is the story of Jack in the Beanstalk. We must give credit for this romantic, fairy-tale vision of Big Sur to the gentleman who owns the property we live on. Witnessing the fog-blanket phenomenon some years back, he exclaimed, "It's Jack in the Beanstalk land!"

Yes, we can imagine happy Jack emerging from the clouds at the top of a giant beanstalk. The great green stalk sways in the muted light of a foggy day as Jack steps across the fog-carpet to the hillside below our house. Like us, he had no idea what his impulse buy of those mysterious beans would bring. He's curious and determined to explore this magical land.

Sometimes doing the eccentric thing, like trading a cow for beans or jumping off the merry-go-round of mainstream modern life, can bring unexpected riches. The goose that laid the golden egg, the talking harp, and the giants (minus the fee-fi-fo-fum bit) are all here, on the top of Partington Ridge.

Photo by Linda Sonrisa

Jack in the Beanstalk illustration by Jackie Willcox Smith