Window View #2

It is no secret that I love to explore old churches and cemetaries. I will drive far out of my way to seek out old forgotten places.

There is something uniquely and uniformly mysterious and mystical about the windows found in many churches. Growing up Catholic, I cannot help but identify stained glass windows as being inseparable from houses of worship.

But in my wanderings, I've run across some unusual exceptions. I learned that poverty was not necessarily a reason to have unadorned windows in a church; to be surrounded by holy figures designed to shed beautiful light on us. I learned this at St. John the Baptist in Hopeton. Here is one of the simple windows I found there.

I also learned that I have a great appreciation for the more modern images that can be found in stained glass. The windows at Sacred Heart Church in Turlock are modern in the extreme. There are no recognizable figures, the symbols of holiness that I identify with and look for.

But somehow the artist who designed these windows knew that the eye would be drawn up, creating a portal for lifting up one's spirit heavenward.

Sacred Heart is not one of my favorite churches, its building a lamentable example of 70's modernism but its windows ARE among my favorites anywhere.

Sepia Scenes #28

Windswept Past

Ruby Tuesday

Love all life from conception to natural death

and we will know peace for all.

Altered book pages created by anne

Roadtrip to Hornitos - Part II

I thought I would do something a little different today. Whenever we travel, Don keeps all the little details tucked away in his memory. He doesn't take notes. He just remembers. Over the years, we've worked out a rhythm. He mentally records; I take hundreds of pictures. Together, we catalog our adventures into letters and photos we can share with family and friends. So today the words will be from Don. I think this will be a blogging first for me.

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Annie was anxious to get to the church and directed me to take the right fork. However…I did not get far, when she instructed me to stop the car so she could take photos. We were at a photo opportunity of a run down shack surrounded by wild flowers and tall grass. I replied that I was on a road and if she wanted to take photos I would pull over and she could get out. I did. She did.
There was also a partially destroyed, red brick building across the road that she captured on…I can’t say film. Okay…photo card.

There were a couple of other wood buildings in decay mode along side that road. They are unpainted. There were signs of occupancy at one or two, but not by the lack of maintenance. (See Roadtrip to Hornitos - Part I)

I followed the road around to the one leading up to the church and began to climb. Arriving almost at the top I noticed a parking lot in front. Between the lot and the church is a fence. The vehicle gate was open and a pickup truck was sitting beside the church. Inside the fence I went and parked by the pickup.

As we got out of the car, the couple the pickup belonged to came out of the back of the church. They turned out to be the caretakers, Cecelia and Russ. They own a ranch outside of town. It sits on the correct side of the road to maintain a Hornitos zip code.

Saint Catherine’s was built back in the mid 1800s. It is today pretty much as it was then. There are no facilities; no running water or electricity. That is why Russell had brought up his generator. Cecilia needed to run the vacuum cleaner, in preparation for the Feast Day of Saint Catherine de Sena.

There are two days the church is filled with people in celebration; Saint Catherine’s feast day and All Souls’ Day, November 2nd.

Their preparation was completed and we were invited into the church.

It is a small, wood building. The back room, which would have served as the sacristy (the priest’s vestments, altar server robes and altar cloths would have been maintained there.) was now being used for storage.

Annie moved ahead taking photos. I stayed by the door between the back room and the altar area just taking in the immediate view. The interior was all white.

Moving forward I began to inspect the details. The altar is wood, which did not surprise me. Then I noticed that the tabernacle itself was wood. It is the first I remember seeing . All was of simple design and made on site. It is a true pioneer church.

In front of the tabernacle and true to form, was a place within the altar for a relic. This was noted by seeing an old, ragged, brown, aged piece of cloth laying there. It must be the same cloth that was placed there in reverence during the installation of the relic a hundred and fifty years ago. I did not inspect enough to see if the cloth covers glass. I suspect it does. The cloth laid there bordered by the wood edges forming a square surrounding the relic box beneath.

The altar itself is painted white, which has now faded with age. In keeping with current practice of the priest facing the people, instead of having his back to the people in representation of the people in prayer to our Lord, a small rectangle table sits in front of the alter. It too is painted white, but it is not as faded. A painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus adorns the base of the altar.

The next item I noticed were the Stations of the Cross. They too are unlike others I have seen as they are paper in wood framed glass. A closer inspection showed that the description below the color print Station was in two languages. One was Spanish and I thought the other to be French. However Cecilia thought it might be German as a French community had not been there, but some Germans had.

The non-English community had been and still is Spanish speaking. Annie inspected the inscription and informed us that it is in both Spanish and French. I told Cecilia that Annie reads French. My guess is that the paper Stations were chosen just for the Spanish and because that is what was available at the time. They may have been taken out of a book, for framing. Those were two of the main languages spoken internationally at that time.

Cecilia informed us of the little community as we continued our inspection. There is only one priest, from Mariposa, assigned for the entire county. That priest comes to Saint Catherine’s for the twice a year Masses said there. Many people come from outside the area for those Masses.

On Saint Catherine’s feast day, the Mass is during the day and in the morning. Since there are no facilities, the restrooms at the park down the hill and down the road are used. The park is also used be those attending for picnicking, since some have driven a ways to be there.

The Knights of Columbus, from Mariposa, accompany the priest for All Souls Day. They provide the candles. That Mass begins at six in the evening. Those attending gather out in front of the church for the candle lighting service, then parade into the church lighting the interior as they enter. The Knights place candles around the interior for light.

I noticed an age old, wall mounted candle holder, with a shinny, round, metal reflector behind it. They were mounted between the framed Stations. There was a chandelier hanging from the middle of the roof. It did not hold candles. It held partially filled kerosene lamps.

Having walked into the only aisle, I saw that the whole floor is covered with a light color, short pile carpet. The pews are of a simple design, without end pieces. There are no book holders. A piece of long, narrow wood lies on top of the backs, to afford an arm rest when kneeling. There were no kneelers! Cecilia stated that they had been removed once for maintenance and never put back. They were in storage in the back room. Okay…

Cecilia called to Russ and said that we were almost finished looking around. She then assured us that we need not hurry. I looked up at the loft area and saw half of a pulley, with attached robe. It was for the church bell.

Annie completed her photo study of the alter and we walked back out of the back door. Russ was sitting patiently on the passenger side of the truck. As we walked by him, we thanked him for his patience.

Our inspection of the graveyard began.

In most graveyards, those of wealth are designated from others by the size of their monument. Most have vertical headstones. The poor have simple horizontal headstones.

In this one, those of wealth are designated from others by the amount of concrete used. If the site has a raised concrete slab, the family was wealthy. The slab covers all of the graves for that family. No single headstones to cut grass around. Not that there is any grass to be cut. The headstones sit on top of the slab. There may be one long, single stone with all of the names of the deceased inscribed on it or there may be a single stone for each person.

Those of lesser means have a raised area encased by concrete, but the graves are covered with dirt and rock. The poor simply have a raised dirt and rock area, without any perimeter encasing.

There are also single graves designated by a cross or obelisk.

The dates range from the mid 1800s to the 2004 so it is still an active cemetery.

What I did find interesting was that some of the headstones looked modern and/or new beyond the date of passing over. At first I thought maybe the wind flowed over the hilltop keeping the stone smoothly polished, but that did not seem right. I think that modern headstones have been placed for generations past by later family members as they had the means to honor their families in such a manner.

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And so ended our return trip to Hornitos. The one thing we didn't do was park the car in town and just walk around and explore the side roads. I figured I would go alone or roadtrip with my brother one day, but when I mentioned it to Don, he was game to go again and soon. Once it gets hot, it will stay very hot. They didn't name this town Hornitos (Spanish for Little Oven) without reason.

Dodged a Bullet

Yesterday I dodged a huge health bullet. I had an enhanced mammogram and an ultrasound on my left "girl". Forty minutes later, I had the "all clear" and discovered I had been holding my breath for, well, it felt like forever.


This is the second time I've dodged this particular bullet and I hope I don't ever experience a "third time's the charm" moment anywhere in my future.

Neither of us had had lunch yet, so at 2:30 we found ourselves at Latif's, a genuine 50/60 diner that serves up good food, great homemade pies (my new personal favorite is coconut cream) and sassy waitresses, all of a certain age.



There is nothing glamorous about Latif's. It's dominant color - Knock Your Socks Off Orange - has such an old fashion feel to it, one wonders if the color can even be made anymore. Well, I exaggerate, but you get my drift.







Latif's is also a great place to catch moody people portraits and is a treasure trove of Hopperesque possibilities. It is always my go-to place when I want to celebrate and comfort food is on my mental menu.

Window Views #1

I love the feel of the wind on my body, on my face, rustling through trees and grass, causing movement on curtains and flags. Windows are always a good place to look to make the invisible, visible.

Welcome to the new photo meme at Window Views. We will be here every Thursday.

Sepia Scenes #27

The old buildings of the ghost town that is Hornitos, quietly fade into history. For more images of Hornitos, click here.

Sunday Scribbling - Language

Remember when beauty contests were all about pretty girls, pretty gowns, swimsuits, and the questions posed that could have all been answered with the perfect "world peace" answer? I sure do and with not a little bit of nostalgia. Now pageants can barely find a TV outlet to host them and the big build ups have turned into a sort of reality TV show.

Sadly, the downward spiral continued when Sunday night Perez Hilton very shabbily asked Miss California, one of the five finalist, what her opinion was on the subject of gay marriage. When she answered truthfully - you DID ask for her opinion Perez - and she claimed the seemingly unpopular notion of marriage being between a man and woman, he pretended shock and dismay. "Did she really say that? " he asked later.
Perez seems to think there is some acceptable, middle of the road, ambiguous answer that she might have given. The problem with that is that any such lame answer would have only further heated the question and would have made her look indecisive and untruthful. Had she given an ambiguous answer and then WON, you can bet the media would have hounded her for the entire year of her reign about her true opinion.

But she didn't say any such thing. She was straight up about it, left no doubt of her opinion and went on to be left with second best. So now Miss California, the loser is all over the media and Miss North Carolina, the winner, is being treated as an also ran by that same media.

I want to congratulate Kristen Dalton on her win. She deserves it every bit as much as Miss California, Carrie Prejean. Sadly, it would have been nice to have had a clean win without the controversy stirred up by Perez Hilton. Now we will never know for sure who truly might have won because, as is usual these days, someone just had to stir the pot.

Our world has truly become a place where language isn't a tool for conversation but rather a blunt instrument in which we endeavor to make ourselves heard at the expense of all other.

Ruby Tuesday

I am blessed to live in an area that is within driving distance to so much history. Just as I brought you to Hornitos a couple of days ago, today on Ruby Tuesday, I'm taking you for a tantalizing visit to the historic town of Columbia, CA. These old doors open to reveal wonderful old fire trucks all in the wild red of Ruby Tuesday.

Roadtrip to Hornitos - Part I

Fifteen years ago, DH and I spent a weekend at a B&B in the little mountain town of Mariposa, CA. Mariposa is about 40 minutes down the road, so to speak, from Yosemite National Park. If you are on Hwy 140 going to Yosemite, you have to drive through this charming and historic town.

Memorable as that weekend was, it was the drive back home and a spontaneous side trip onto J16 that has always stood out most clearly in my memory. As we drove west on 140 we saw a road sign for Hornitos and just like that, we took a hard right turn and went exploring.

Fast forward to 2009 and me with a three day weekend just waiting to be filled. So today, 15 years after our first visit, DH and I returned to the very well preserved ghost town of Hornitos.

From the road, high on a hill overlooking the town, is old St. Catherine's Catholic Church. St. Catherine's is visible even before you see the town itself; a sentinel that draws people to it like a lighthouse. Fifteen years ago we were not able to see the inside. Today we were much luckier as you will see.

Once you are in the little town itself, you discover that for a ghost town, it is a pretty lively place. There is a public park, a school, and - well, unless we missed it - that's about it. The one cafe we saw was closed, the post office looked like it was official uninhabited. There was no gas station but there was a very cool old gasoline pump (no picture drat it).

It's hard to say what this building might have been at one time. It does not look like it was a residence and time has truly stripped it of its identity.

In the midst of the elegant decay, colors burst forth and flooded my heart.

Across from the beautiful mauve/pink bush the rusted brick remains of The Ghirardelli Store -- 1859 -- operated by D. Ghirardelli & Co. -the well-known chocolate maker of San Francisco.

Along the same road, this residence emerged from a profusion of overgrown foliage and grasses. At first I thought it was deserted, but then I found THIS.

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Finally, we were at our destination - the church and cemetary of our memory. Tomorrow I will share the lovely church and cemetary with you. And yes, this time we were able to go in. Twice a year the church is used for Mass and the caretakers are called to come in to clean and prepare for the celebration, this one in honor of the church's namesake, St. Catherine of Siena. We were lucky enough to arrive just as Cecilia and Russell were preparing to leave. Bless them for staying a little longer and letting us go in.

The view north from St. Catherine's overlooking the valley that is Hornitos.

Sepia Scenes #26

Secrets

Ruby Tuesday

Red Hair

Blushing Cheeks

A Dashing Red-Feathered Hat

She's My RUBY Girl

Holy Mother!!!!

She is the most amazing surprise. If this doesn't get the message across about not judging based on appearances than absolutely nothing will.

My Slow Moving Train

I would like to be riding a train,

admiring fields of flowers as I pass.

I would like to be moving so slowly that I might

jump from the train, spend time gathering flowers,

and fashion a bouquet for my hands and heart to hold

as I re-board that still moving train.

I would like to stand at the back of the train

and watch cares fall away like gently floating scarves

caught on a wind to peace

and feel the fluttering kiss of their departure

on my cheek.

It is the slow and quiet moments from which I draw strength

when discordant life overtakes the gentle wind of peace;

discordance so swift, unexpected, and sharp

that even hardy wild flowers wilt beneath its heat.

The slower pace offers the honeyed taste

of wildflowers, fresh as wet from spring rain.

Bouquet's flourish of sprinkling freshness

reminds me to lift my face skyward and

breathe deep the cool, sweet air.

Touch, See, Hear, Taste, and Smell

I savor life from my slow-moving train.

THIS is hope. THIS is real audacity.

If faith is weak, than our hope will be weak, and we will not be able to face our present. QMJ - 4-10-09

Holy Father's Easter message can be read here.

Amazing how this fits me

You Are a Lynx

You are a quiet observer of the world around you. Your wisdom comes from listening carefully. You've always been extra sensitive and aware. And it's made it difficult for you to fit in. You see past people's outward personas. You are able to penetrate a stranger's soul. What you've learned about people is both beautiful and ugly. And you keep these secrets to yourself.

What Big Cat Are You?

Sepia Scenes #25

A Lady's Dresser

Ruby Tuesday

Begonias and Reflections

Capitola, CA

If you turn around you will see the river that flows into the Pacific Ocean.

This quiet riverwalk offers the random bench for stillness and reflection.

Overhead an old viaduct reigns, still supreme, but alas, unused.

OSI - Listen

Quiet. Hush. Listen.

Creating stillness within me.

A prayer rises.

Creating a Word Bank

I was visiting Heidi today and she inspired me to start a word bank. I even had just the right little notebook to keep in my purse with me. I don't know about you but sometimes I write something in a comment in reaction to someone else's post and I actually might start waxing poetic. Then I read it and think ' "Oh, I have to remember that", and of course, it is instantly gone.

Then Heidi wrote about word banks and I felt Godsmacked. Why in the world did I not think of this before??? Happily, I didn't miss this post and I have the start of a resource that I hope I can use for my own future writing.

First thing I "remembered" in my WB - ". . . created a moment of stillness within me."

Miss Dickinson said . . .

Elysium is as far as to

The very nearest room,

If in that room a friend await

Felicity or doom.

What fortitude the soul contains,

That it can so endure

The accent of a coming foot,

The opening of a door.

I finally got to the Turlock Cemetary today. Eleven years I've lived here and countless times have I passed the cemetary. The monuments and headstones have called me to come in and visit but I never answered until today. At the entrance are the usual markers buried in the grass. Anyone driving by would see nothing but green lawn; would not even know they were looking at a cemetary. But the old beauty, the place that holds trees and holy figures and angels of repose does lay farther into the cemetary and that was my destination.

One of the oldest headstones was dedicated to a young woman, a beloved wife. She died in 1882, only 28 years old. Death reached her in childbirth perhaps?

My simple photo tour of the old corner of the Turlock Cemetary introduced me to a new appreciation of a language that I hear, not necessarily daily, but at least 2-3 times a week.

To the left I found family members all together who passed away in 1920, 1937, and 1946. They were Assyrian and a part of the headstone is carved in the style of the Assyrian/Aramaic alphabet. Click on the picture to enlarge and you will clearly see the writing at the bottom.

We have a very large Assyrian population in Turlock. Assyrians are among the first Christians (a couple years after the life of Christ), and they speak one of the oldest, rarest language in the world. It is the root language of hebrew, arabic, turkish, and the alphabet for farsi (Persian), urdu (Pakistan/Indian), and Greek.

The aramaic script was derived from the Phonecians who probably extracted it from Canaan. After the Assyrians accepted the language of the Aramaens, Aramaic became the lingua franca of Mesopotamia and the whole middle-east. The word Aramaic comes from the word Aram, the son of Shem (of which the word SHE-MAA-YAA (Semetic) is derived). The language has changed very little in 2000 years, especially lituraturally and liturgically.

Parts of the bible were written in aramaic, including the books of Erza and Daniel. The famous writing on the wallŒ, which was seen by Nebuchadnezzar's grandson, Belshazzar, told of the fall of Babylon. A famous painting by Rembrandt incorrectly showed the handwriting as hebrew, because he could not find people who knew the script. The famous last words of Jesus were in his native tounge, aramaic,(E-LEE E-LEE L-MAA-NAA SAA-BAACH-TAA-NEE) = (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me).

This is the native tongue of Jesus, the language He preached in, the language of the Assyrians. The language is so valued that it is extensivly studied at the vatican and taught in ivy league schools such as Harvard University and the University of Chicago.

Sepia Scenes #24

San Juan de Nuestra senora de Guadalupe