Thanks to sunharper for a couple of additional Tassajara photos. Being there in June was a first for me, and while it was greener than July or August, the biting flies kind of took the joy out of it. There isn't enough Deet in the world to keep those stinging red insects away. A very good reason to schedule your stay for August.There was quite a large fire in the King City area, and as my companion and I reached the ridge top, ready for our descent into the gorge, the sky was glowing orange and black with smoke. From the looks of the nearby cumulus clouds, the wind was blowing west, towards Tassajara. B. and I stole side glances at one another, wondering if our much anticipated get away was going to be blown away. Surely we would encounter a long line of cars coming the other direction, entreating us to 'go back! go back! they're evacuating!' Nothing of the sort happened, so we kept going, figuring we'd find out the scoop when we arrived. The center was smokey, and as we sat around the pool smashing biting flies on our flesh, there were plenty of morbid jokes about perhaps jumping into the pool when the flames were about to engulf us. Ha ha. The the smoke came and went, we stayed, and it appears the joint is in no danger.
This group of students, who really are the worker bees that keep the place humming along, we not up to our expectations. Meals were not as inventive nor delicious, the table service very lax. Dissapointing. But what did not dissapoint were our dinner guests -- we met some lovely people: a constitutional scholar/professor who teaches both at UC and American University in DC, a Jungian psychologist who grew up in London and has been in Berkeley for six years, a retired publisher, many psychotherapists, a couple of elementary school teachers and an old friend of ours who is a Buddhist priest who just happened to be vacationing at the same time. Wonderful dinner companions - we shut down the joint each night. The students, needing to get to the zendo for zazen, politely asked us to either finish up or clean up after ourselves. We just got carried away with our talk. We retired to the bridge near the zendo to continue, and dubbed ourselves the official greeting committee of Tassajara. I began to ask passersby if they would like a spritz of our latest cologne, a combination of deet and sunscreen with just a hint of rosemary. Mmmmm. I had been reading too much David Sedaris.
Eat. Read. Swim. Sleep. Bathe. Sleep. Eat. Meander. Observe. Smile. (Oh, the smiles.) Smack a fly. More deet. A typical Tassajara weekend. We were right on the river, Cabin 19, and oh what a pleaure to drift into sleep to the sound of water over rocks. Hope you get there someday. In August.
