I want to share my morning sketch at poet Robinson Jeffers' Tor House, which he built for his beloved Una out of local rocks hauled up from the beach. When we first moved to Carmel, we lived a mere three blocks away, so it was natural for me to have started reading Jeffers in the early 70s. I was at Tor House to accompany a friend for a tour, but the caressing breeze was like pussycat's fur and the sea birds' incessant piping convinced me to stay in the garden abloom with gladioli. This is the result. The sardines are running again in Monterey Bay; myriad seabirds revolved like newspapers in the wind a few yards off shore.
Haig, one of the many English bulldogs the Jeffers loved, is buried among the gladioli. As I stood drawing, one of the docents came by and read me the poem, "The House Dog's Grave." I must have stood in the same spot for three quarters of an hour, and all the while, I sensed Robinson Jeffer's gray eyes gazing down at me from atop of Hawk Tower.
Hawk Tower and garden gate around 1:15 PM on July 26, 2008 taken by Belle
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