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closer then


You can’t spell dream

without mare,

and those come in the dark


apocalyptical hooves

of heartbeat fast


draw and quarter

no Mr. Ed

and blind

no Black Beauty

and burden

stopping and starting at full gallop


in anima reign,

muzzle muffles summon and


–and none—

are Trigger


prompt: dream

Follow Your Forrest Gump Feather…

Biking & Birding in Santa Barbara

Maria Ignacio Trail at Santa Barbara. This merges with Obern Trail in Goleta.


I’m back. Turns out the grid is inbuilt, anymore, like a subconscious Matrix, but it was nice to let the grey matter take a break for a day or two. To wing it, as it were. Almost everything improves over time—like wine & attitudes, and whiny attitudes, too—and while I followed my own Forrest Gump feather during my power down, my whimsical meanderings ultimately became research for the blog post you’re reading now. My wild goose chase out to Goleta Beach County Park proved anything but, lending flight to my fancy, and providing a flocking good excuse to feather this post with far too many bird idioms.

Some swamp…people!

It must have been all that paragliding I watched last week at Elings Park that caused me to look up. That, or potential bird poop, but whatever the reason, once I’d pedaled my mountain bike to a patch of swampy marshland abutting the Obern Bike path connecting Goleta and nearby Isla Vista, I was bird-dogging the skies. The turf, too, since the next few miles of wetlands before the coastal park proper plays home to feathered friends and terrestrial fauna alike, but in the 80 degree heat of afternoon, the sightings of four-footed critters was scarcer than chicken teeth. The number of birds taking advantage of the cool if murky waters was toothsome, though, and fully close-up worthy. Continue reading

Hike 2 Miles, & Blog Me in the Morning…

A Hike to Santa Barbara’s Inspiration Point

Some days, you just need to get away from it all, and that day was yesterday for this Santa Barbara blogger. Feeling dejected by the plethora of so-called publishers out there—along with imaginary friends, inflated egos, and career carrots dangled and withdrawn—I grabbed my camera and headed out to the quiet of Santa Barbara’s Seven Falls. If there’s one thing I’ve learned by this stage of my life, chickens, it’s that Nature restores.

No valet parking!

And it’s not stingy about it, either. Just driving the winding route of Tunnel Road eased the senses, carved as it is, through Mission Canyon’s lushly forested, sandstone. So what if parking was such I had to park a full half-mile from the trailhead? With more than 5 separate trails leading from the front country to the back, it’s no wonder so many cyclists, runners and hikers were on site to enjoy.

Why, even chickens were out partaking of the late afternoon quiet! The instant I stepped out of my car, I happened upon these “wild chickens”—or at the very least extremely free-range chickens—foraging at the edge of an orange grove, their unrestrained movements echoing their lack of concern for my spastic shutterbugging. Continue reading

Rite Moves at Nite Moves

Run Santa Barbara’s Summer Sunset Series: Nite Moves

Aquathon & 5K Run

5:30 is the time of day most folks are winding down for the night. Belts are loosened, stockings discarded and pleats and collars are exchanged for fuzzier, more forgiving ensembles. Generally, I’m all about knocking off right now, too, inclined to be inclined at this hour, and beating most to the punch in premature pajama attire, but not tonight. Tonight I’m taking part in Santa Barbara’s long-running (pun intended) Nite Moves, a 5K run with optional 1 mile swim that’s staged every Wednesday night at Leadbetter Beach.

Better still, you’re coming with me, so we best gets to stepping, then, and go get my number for the race.

25 bone buy-in includes souvenir Tee shirt and catered refreshments later.

I’m excited to participate, but a little nervous, too. I haven’t competed in years, and racing’s definitely a young man’s sport, making me 0 for 2 right from the get go, and though I say that last in jest, the competitor in me is none too happy at the prospect of getting spanked in such a public forum. So it’s with self-conscious reservation I start the trek up the ¼ mile slope to the start line, rubbing my arms to lessen the bite of chill in the air. Continue reading

Duffer’s Day on the Green

Links u Love 2 Hate

We’re hitting the links today. The kind you walk between, instead of clicking. The back problem that’s kept me from teeing off this last year is finally recovered enough to withstand my maniacal thrashing of iron into turf, and Jim’s ready to come out of the clubhouse, too. So grab your quiver, and get ready to fudge your score along with us as we visit our hidden gem of a (slightly bigger than) Putt-Putt golf course: SB’s Hidden Oaks.

Number 9…number 9…number 9…

Right away I notice the economy’s hit the quaint course where it hurts. On its greens. Though manicured and maintained the usually lush links are as brown as I ever seen them, and as quiet, too. Only the burble of doves and rat-a-tat of woodpeckers underscore my customary war whoop as I slice hard off the 1st Tee with my go-to 9 iron…and Mulligan–again–and again– Continue reading

As the Crow Flies…

You know it’s windy when beachgoers pitch tents on the sand instead of towels.

Super-sized Windbreaker

…and while that campground’s yet to be discovered, right from the word ‘go’ I know I’m in for a wind whipped bike ride along Santa Barbara’s beach boardwalk. My first clue was the drive over, buffeted on the high plains of highway as if Mustang Sally weighed closer to an equine Mustang than a car, and my second is the 25 mph blasts I’m stepping into now, complete with bracing 50 mph gusts as a to-my-bones extra… Continue reading

1000 Words

You ready 4 a run? (And I do mean 4 a run.)That digit’s no funky space-saver. Stretch out those hammies and crack out those creaks, because it’s time to lace up for a looping 4 mile lope through the Santa Barbara foothills, and as the blog title suggests, we’ll be snapping a few pictures along the way to Rebus in the blanks of this blog later.

Did I say a few? Make that a few dozen, because my Ipod’s on the fritz, more stuck on Adele than I am, and I can’t go completely gadget free out into public. You either. We might have to communicate without a digital screen between us and that simply wouldn’t do. It would be both unnatural and uncomfortable, so TIA for that.

Spins too much torch…

Besides. My pocket cam’s got enough memory to capture both the Kodak moment and that tired slogan, so before we fade completely into obsolescence, let’s hit the road. Our model slash runway is ready. More than ready–Mama Earth’s layered a fuzzy sweater of fresh flora atop the soft shoulders of this particular paved way, and even dabbed perfumed blooms behind embowered ears to get us in the mood. (Putting the hoochie before Mama, I suspect, but you gotta love springtime’s splashiness)

Let’s go!

Continue reading

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