When I turned twenty-one, my beloved and I were recently arrived to San Luis Obispo and I was already disenchanted with employment.
From a small bequeathment upon my cherished grandmother’s passing, we were able to rent The Carriage House on Pepper Street perched on a hill’s incline rising above the railroad tracks.
In a one bedroom square unit with wooden floors raised above two storage garage units, we had a view of the mountains with the moon and sun rising and passing overhead. Down below under the entry stairwell was a small patch of dirt where I first tried my hands at gardening.
I succeeded in growing some small gourds and a huge honeysuckle bush that thick-tendriled all the way up the handrails and along the deck’s sidings with its greenery and tri-colored blooms, fragrantly welcoming winsome hummingbirds.
It was the first time in my life that I felt truly alive, and I began self employment as one of the first-ever environmentally-safe cleaning services based upon the virtues of hard work, morals of environmental ethics, and innovative application of vinegar and baking soda.
We were just a few blocks from downtown and the Fremont Theatre while adjacent to the old tree-laned historical neighborhood. Being on the Southeastern position from Madonna Mountain placed us in the warmest spot of SLO at that time. During summers, we had balmy 80’s – yet better remember to at least take sweaters when visiting Montana de Oro in Los Osos where the ocean’s upwelling currents had fog waiting for us
We held our Thursday evening drum circle gatherings on Pepper, which would echo from the living room down onto the street below – and we would sometimes find people there dancing to our rhythms under the lights and stars. My guy and I trained toegther at The Central California School Of Body Therapy for massage, connected with world music, and played for Belly and Tribal dancers.
We still occasionally rode his motorcycle with me snuggly wrapped around him and holding on tightly. On sunny days, we would wind our way up the curving backroads along Whale Rock Reservoir and into Cambria past hidden homes and sheltered rivers. Sometimes we would go farther up the coast past San Simeon’s Hearst Castle, through the salt spray afternoon breezes while glimpsing wild zebras and Elephant Seals.
On the way home, we would stop for dinner at our favorite spot called The Whale’s Tale in Morro Bay for the best clam chowder and batter-fried fish strips that hot-melted apart in our mouths with crisped potato slices. I was in love with my quick-witted rogue stoicist; I wanted to be in love him; and I knew we had been given a glimpse of Heaven in our Central Coast Californian paradise.
Candid Corvid Productions 