Thanks So Much

This morning I'm grateful for fresh, crisp air and beautiful sunny skies.
"I'll bet the farmers watered heavily last night," said Andy. "Ice doesn't kill the plants, and with 26-degree temperatures, they had a killer freeze last night."
We drove south toward Mission Santa Ines at 9:00 a.m., squinting in the blinding sun. The countryside warmed, and traffic kept moving on Route #101. Mission bells on high poles marked the route Father Junipera Serra followed in the 1500's to establish the string of missions in what is now California, spread his faith and claim the land for Spain.
Everywhere along the road yellowed fields of grapes spread for miles. "That's why you can buy wine here at Walmart for $1.97 a bottle," said Andy. As far as we could see, grapevines lined the rolling slopes in harvest colors. "Now there is overabundance, and California, the largest wine-producing area in the country, has lots of competition from other states."
"It's getting drier," noticed Andy as we drove east on the Chumash Highway, Route #154, toward Solvang, the site of the 1804 Mission Santa Ines. Bilingual mass, celebrated at 10:00 a.m., filled the sanctuary with music. We walked the grounds: a cemetery that was the burial site for 2,000 Christianized Chumash Indians and 500 early settlers; luxuriant gardens with cacti, succulents, palms and flowers of all kinds; an expansive rose garden, many still in bloom, lined by olive trees, still bearing fruit; a fenced-off lavanderia, preserving the original adobe walls, where converted Indians did their laundry and bathed so many years ago. Signs explained how Spanish friars taught nomadic Indians how to grow corn, wheat, peas and beans and how to raise animals for food instead of following wandering herds.
The missions altered lifestyle and settled California when it was still part of Mexico.

Purisima, built in 1820, functions as a California State Park. This mission was abandoned by the Catholic Church in the mid-1800's after Abraham Lincoln deeded mission property back to the Church in 1862. Then most Spanish missions had been stripped and were in total disrepair.

The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) totally refurbished Mission Purisima during the Depression for its value as living history. Pigs grunted in the pig pen; sheep, donkeys and goats grazed in the fenced-in yard; and turkeys, lucky to be gobbling on Thanksgiving Day, pecked in their enclosure. Although the park was closed, at least 100 people ducked under the gatepost and strolled the grounds. Andy took off his sweatshirt and tied it around his waist. What a wonderful way to spend Thanksgiving Day!
At Ocean Dunes State Vehicle Recreation Area, the only beach in California that allows vehicular traffic, I waded ankle deep in the Pacific Ocean. I couldn't roll my pants legs any higher. That's probably a good thing, since the water was bitterly cold.
We stopped again at Pismo State Beach Monarch Grove to marvel about the delicate insects floating between eucalyptus and pine trees. The docent said more than a thousand visitors had walked the Grove today.

More people strolled along the shore on Pismo Beach, snapping pictures, walking dogs, digging in the sand, simply enjoying the clear skies and bright sun. A few brave young ones even dared the water. Before Andy and I headed for Thanksgiving dinner, we read how Pismo Beach got its name. Pismo, the Chumash Indian word for a sticky thick black oil, seeped from a fissure out at sea and ended up in globs on the beach. The Indians used the tar-like oil to seal their canoes. In every sense, beach tar at Pismo made life easier and better for them. We didn't notice any pismo on the beach. But after a lovely afternoon, we gave thanks, like the Chumash Indians must have done, for this beautiful location and the inspiration it provided.