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Photos of Colorful Blooms at San Francisco Botanical Garden in October
Entrance to San Francisco Botanical Garden in Golden Gate Park.
Many thanks to San Francisco Realtor Lottie Kendall who first introduced this Sacramento Realtor to the San Francisco Botanical Garden. This place boasts over 50,000 plants, and is located inside Golden Gate Park at the corner of 9th and Lincoln Way. Admission is free to members; or $8.00 regular and $6.00 admission for seniors. My husband and I had originally planned to visit DeYoung Museum as there is always something happening there, but the exhibit last weekend was Teotihuacan. Since we were in Mexico climbing the ancient pyramids of Teotihuacan last February, and we also toured the National Museum of Archeology in Mexico City, it seemed like the exhibit might be redundant.
I am always up for visiting a botanical garden, and the San Francisco Botanical Garden was an excellent choice. The day was warm, sunny and beautiful. No coats or jackets necessary for the middle of October. When I first shot a few photos, I did so with PlantSnap to see if that new app, which my husband backed through crowdfunding, would show me the name. Except it did not identify most of the colorful blooms. I entered my suggestion for the name, based on nearby signs, but PlantSnap did not save my collections. Which is probably my fault for not watching the video. I don’t have the patience for instruction videos.
Therefore, some of the photos contain captions identifying the flowers and plants at the San Francisco Botanical Garden, and some do not. If you recognize a flora, please let me know, and I will tag it. My only regret was we did not have enough time to visit all 55 acres and every collection. I hope you enjoy the photos below.
Scrub Jay near the Garden of Fragrance at San Francisco Botanical Garden.
Balloon flowers
Lichen grows on European Hornbeam
Luculia Gratissima
Salvia Moorcroftiana
Monarch butterflies on butterfly bush
Peaceful pond with ducks at San Francisco Botanical Garden.
Red Spider Net Grevillea
Banksea Giant Candles native to Australia
Australian bottle brush
Sky Blue Lochroma Cyaneum
Peruvian Glory Bush
Winter’s Bark flowers are fragrant and used to make tea.
Dragon Trees in the Succulent Garden
The Painted Cats of Kokopelli Gallery in Saint Helena
Three painted cats of Kokopelli Gallery
Before the painted cats of Kokopelli Gallery, this Sacramento Realtor has collected many different types of cat figurines over the years. They come from all walks of life. From friends as gifts, art galleries, antique stores, tourist shops and even the goofy Franklin Mint. I began collecting cats in the 1970s when I lived in Newport Beach in southern California. My biggest fear back then was an earthquake would shatter my display case and take all of my cats with it. I didn’t think of myself as a cat collector then, just a person who had a few knickknacks.
People collect all sorts of things. I see these collections in their homes as a top Sacramento listing agent. Some people enjoy dolls and dollhouses, others prefer life-size action figures from Star Wars lined up against the wall, and some pick very particular things like miniature hurricane lamps. My sister collected frogs for a while. My husband collects books, magazines and CDs. Everybody has their thing. I would like to collect art, large sculptures and oil paintings, but I can’t justify spending thousands and thousands for that kind of whim, which is probably a good thing or we’d never travel. The painted cats of Kokopelli are more affordable.
I first noticed the painted cats of Kokopelli while walking by the shop on Main Street in Saint Helena on the 4th of July. The shop was closed. My husband seemed relieved, and when I stopped to look in the window, he was already standing next to my car, waiting. But I had just spotted the tan painted cat with all the spots. I put the name of the shop into my cellphone. Sure enough, they have a website.
At first I thought the cat was a fimo clay. I described the cat and ordered it from Kokopelli. But when it arrived, I was horrified to discover it was not the cat in the window. OK, there are worse things in life to be horrified about, like the slaying of police officers in Dallas, the killing of an innocent African-American motorist in Minnesota, and whether Donald Trump will become president and force us to move to Mexico, but I set all of those nightmares aside for a moment when I opened the box. My initial reaction was the cat was ugly. It was not like any of the painted cats of Kokopelli.
I quickly rectified the situation with a call to Stephen at the Kokopelli Gallery. He located the painted cat I desired. But I made the mistake of inquiring about the specific number of painted cats of Kokopelli. Stephen emailed me photos. I examined the fimo clay cat more closely. Actually, the fimo clay cat was beautiful. Intricate detail, gorgeous color, and now suddenly I did not want to bid adieu. No, kitty, this is my pot pie! I had touched, admired, and became hooked.
In addition to the tan painted cat with the bright colors, I also selected the cats I nicknamed elevator butt and Wild Man of Borneo cat. Above is a photo sent by Stephen. If you like cat figurines, there are more painted cats of Kokopelli Gallery available. They come from all different Mexican artists and are signed. Go to kokopellinapa.com. Just don’t ask me why they have two cards from the Saint Helena police department taped below the ledge of their work area. You can see it in the photo above.
I feel like I should make a confession before a group of other addicts. Yes, my name is Elizabeth Weintraub, and I collect small cat figurines.
The Best Way to Serve Maine Lobster in Hawaii
Hapuna Beach on Labor Day Weekend 2015
The beach was fairly quiet for the Saturday of Labor Day Weekend in Hawaii, no sand castles, only one surfboard, piercing squeals of children almost nonexistent, in fact the birds shrieked more than anybody except maybe that overweight woman from Iowa waddling about. I strolled a long stretch on the shore, allowing the waves to roll over my perfectly manicured toenails and deposit grains of sand between my toes. On a firm spot that is still wet from the last wave but not hit so many times that your feet sink into its dampness. You don’t have to work quite so hard to put one foot in front of the other when walking there.
It was at this point I realized that it was entirely possible a spot on my back has had too much exposure to the sun. When you’re traveling solo, that’s a drawback, having nobody around to rub sunblock on those hard-to-reach spots. I suppose I could have asked the overweight woman from Iowa to help me out but I didn’t really want her pudgy hands on my back. And if she missed a spot, then I would blame her. Be hanging dead lizards on her door knob.
Not wanting to rollover in bed in pain in the middle of the night, I cut the walk shorter than I had planned and trekked to the gift shop to pick up what my friend Myrl suggested I do in the beginning, a can of spray sunblock. At that point I also realized I had given away my mango sunscreen lip balm to my friend Lisa from Texas when she was visiting me in Sacramento last week. I guess you can’t call it chapstick because that name is probably trademarked or registered or maybe that’s just another one of those things that change names over the years.
It’s how a suitcase turned into luggage. A purse into a handbag or the shorter term, bag. Your kitchen cupboards have morphed into cabinets. Blame it on marketing, trying to polish the sheen, pull that last scent from the bloom.
After buying spray-on sunblock and new lip balm, I headed to the bellman desk to check on the departure time for Mauna Kea. My room literature showed a 5:50 departure time and, since my dinner reservations for the clambake / lobster fest was at 7 PM, I figured I could spend time checking out the shops and wandering the hotel but it turns out the departure time was 6:50. Trust but verify. I’ve been anticipating Maine lobster in Hawaii, although I believe the Maine lobster in Hawaii originates in Kona.
This is a very different experience than my Maui vacation last year with Barbara Dow at the Fairmont Kea Lani in Wailea. Much more low key. The only shopping I could find here was in the lobby yesterday afternoon. I spotted a green turtle, a giant honu, on an aluminum print. There were dozens of other photographs of lava flows, dripping over A’a but I could not imagine such a thing hanging in our home. No, a honu was just fine and the right size. It will make me smile every time I walk by. Unlike red hot lava which strikes fear. My husband undoubtedly will prefer the honu as well.
Maine lobster in Hawaii comes from Kailua / Kona, served shelled at Mauna Kea
I have also discovered that when one dines alone, it doesn’t take nearly as long as you might think to devour 3 Maine lobsters drizzled with drawn butter. I was in the Mauna Kea and out in less than an hour. While I was standing in line with my plate, I wished I had my wristlet with my iPhone dangling so I could have shot photos of the workers cleaning up the lobster and shelling them before placing the succulent flesh on your plate. Randy Selland should take note. Much better way to eat lobster than having to mess with the shell yourself, cutting up your hands, and whatnot.
A Weekend Trip to Minneapolis from Sacramento
Elizabeth Weintraub and Amy Kamenick at Cafe Lurcat in Minneapolis
In another life my husband and I used to live in Minneapolis, where I am originally from. You can pick up the Minnesota accent in my speech still, even though I have lived in other states, including that place south of us known as Orange County, which is a state onto itself. My sister and niece live in south Minneapolis, and since we haven’t seen them for a while, we decided to combine the opportunity to see several bands we love playing in town on Saturday with a visit to see my family for the weekend.
It’s only a 3-hour direct flight on Delta from Sacramento to Minneapolis. Even if you don’t have family in town, it’s a cosmopolitan city with plenty to do and see. You barely have time to settle into your seat, enjoy lunch and you’re touching down at Minneapolis / St. Paul International Airport. Although, I have to add that I was astonished that Delta does not serve champagne, so no Mimosa for me. It dawned on me that I probably fly Hawaiian Airlines more than I do Delta.
The Crosstown traffic was bearable but I-35 was backed up, and adorned on both sides of the freeway with newer “sound” walls. I recall when I-35 wasn’t there and people used to live along First Avenue without the freeway, and now those houses are razed. It’s always strange going home because home is never as you left it, even when you live there all the time. Things change, you get used to it, and memories fade.
Baked Petrale Sole at Vincent A Restaurant
I had tried to find a nice restaurant for dinner with my sister and a friend from Adam’s days at the Minneapolis Business Journal, Amy. We settled on Vincent A Restaurant, on 11th and Nicollet. The waiter served me a Manhattan with a plain maraschino cherry which, surprisingly, was not an Amarena. You expect more from a top-rated restaurant. My doubts were erased when the baked petrale sole arrived, accompanied by Morel mushrooms, pickled ramps and green beans. The sole was absolutely delightful, especially when pared with the IGP-Var Domaine de Triennes, 2013, a crisp Provencal Rose.
The dessert, a butterscotch caramel, was like unwrapping a salted caramel and savoring it as the candy melts in your mouth. Splashed down with a 20-year Tawny.
Because we were still on California time, the night was young in Minneapolis. We walked over to what used to be the Loring Cafe: a quirky, eclectic restaurant near Loring Park with softwood floors and an interior that used to look like a rummage sale. It is now Cafe Lurcat, still expensive, but featuring a better wine list and outdoor seating. There we met a couple of 6-degrees-from-Kevin-Bacon friends, including a guy in town from Napa. The photo at the top of this page is of Amy and me at Cafe Lurcat in Loring Park.
In case you’re wondering, we have house sitters caring for our home in Land Park and the 3 cats that occupy it. That arrangement, plus in-flight WiFi, is what lets this Sacramento Realtor sneak out of town every so often.
Sacramento Getaway to Lodi
Welcome to Lodi
Make all the jokes you want about Creedence Clearwater Revival and John Fogerty’s song, Lodi, but there were some of us who used to sing along to that song when we were high school seniors in 1969 and did not know the words were Oh, Lord, stuck in Lodi again. There were some of us, and I’m not saying who, who thought he was singing stuck in Ohio. Except Ohio is probably a lot prettier with emerald grass and vertical white sign posts with the street names painted on them. Plus, you know, Fogerty isn’t the best enunciator.
We thought about doing a Sunday Sacramento getaway to Lodi after my friend Myrl Jeffcoat posted a blog about her experience in Lodi and included photos from J. Seward Johnson Sculpture Exhibit. This installation is life-size statues of people doing real-world things like sitting on a bench and reading a book, or standing up bird watching and holding binoculars. We didn’t get a chance to see every statue due to 3 reasons: a) a street festival was in the works, and b) we were busy blowing up portals in Ingress and c) we needed to get to the Ripken Vineyards and Winery before the tasting room closed at 4 PM.
Elizabeth Weintraub and Marilyn in Lodi
It’s odd to admit that I’ve lived in Land Park in Sacramento now for going on 13 years and I’ve never been to Lodi. It’s about the same distance from Sacramento as Stockton, about 45 minutes. Or, in terms of my real estate world, about 10 minutes past Galt, and I do sell homes in Galt as my outer boundaries for Sacramento real estate. But Myrl’s post and photos of Lodi encouraged us to go last Sunday. Myrl often inspires me with her adventurous spirit, just hopping in the car and taking off to engage in delightful experiences.
We parked on the outside of downtown, on a dusty deserted street in front of a Chinese restaurant, walked past the railroad tracks and through the arch that welcomed us to Lodi. The arch sports a golden bear on top just in case we forgot that we’re in California and the historic buildings in the background were a reminder that we’re not out in the middle of the desert somewhere, but you could have fooled me.
Take 27 Restaurant in Lodi
Some guy from our Ingress team sent my husband a communication message that he appreciated our efforts at blowing up and capturing portals around the movie theater. He even offered to buy us a beer at Ollies. Go Resistance! We stopped for lunch at Take 27, a movie-themed restaurant that, for some reason, maybe Jurassic Park, sports a big ol’ dinosaur head chomping down from the ceiling, right next to Batman in a cave wearing a red Lodi shirt. There were quite a few people who were missing teeth, I noticed, downing cocktails in the middle of the afternoon.
But we had a winery to visit. It was a spinach Mediterranean salad with grilled salmon for me and some sort of BLT for my husband. Decent faire. A train continually circled overhead, and we were grateful there were no derailments during lunch.
Elizabeth Weintraub at Ripken Winery
The reason we elected to visit the Ripken Vineyards and Winery is because somebody, probably a long ago dinner guest, had given us a bottle of 2008 Petite Sirah from Ripken, which we finally consumed a few weeks ago. It featured deep cherry and plum notes, very full bodied and extremely buttery smooth, no tannin aftertaste, like a fine Belgian chocolate melting. I had emailed Ripken, but of course the 2008 was a faint memory. It seemed worth it to visit to taste the 2013 Petite Sirah.
The ability to visit tasting rooms of favorite wineries is an excellent reason to live in Sacramento. Plus, since you’ve got a car, you can easily cart the cases back home instead of trying to stuff bottles of wine into your luggage, bottles that eventually will break. I recommend the 2011 Primitivo and the 2008 Port. The 2013 Petite Sirah isn’t quite ready to consume yet. This is an unexpected great getaway from Sacramento, to visit Lodi. If I only had a dollar for every song I’ve sung . . .
