Sharks and Ferrys

Neatly printed, the blackboard sign encourages buyers to pick from the Honor Farm Pumpkin Patch. Prices for various sizes are posted. A white metal box, affixed to the adjacent building's wall, serves as the payment receptacle.

We watch as the ferry pulls away from the dock and then retreat across the pedestrian bridge to a small collection of shops, awaiting the next crossing. The Rustic Bakery and Cafe is replete with tantalizing aromas, a welcoming menu. We order sandwiches for the thirty minute trip and soon are riding in comfort for the senior rate of $4.50 each way. Our watery transport across the Bay from Larkspur provides glassy views as the cityscape looms, bridges arch and an azure sky portends a sublime day.

With dangly silver dragonfly earrings, the age-compatible lady projects an artistic flare as she inquires if we are natives. Though residing elsewhere, perhaps we can assist her. This fellow traveler wants to purchase an all-day bus pass and is uncertain where to find the nearest Muni stop. We lack that information and so the conversation evolves as we discuss where we do live. She's from Portland, having driven down to visit a friend in the area. We quickly extoll the many virtues of that northwest city, most particularly two special people who call it home. Upon learning that we're long-time Palm Springs residents, she's exuberant about our desert town. For two months each year it is her home, timed to coincide with the Film Festival and Modernism Week activities.

Too soon, the journey ends at the Embarcadero and we begin walking toward Union Square. Our last visit to San Francisco was in December 2004 but the unique allure of the city holds very special memories for us. However, we have forgotten just how far we are from our destination. Almost three (gulp) miles later, we're turning onto Powell Street, buoyed by the singular beauty of a late October afternoon. In my purse, there's a list of 'wants,' provided by our daughter. My mission is to visit the newly open Uniqlo store and purchase as many of the items as possible. The popularity of this Japan-based emporium is impressive. Customers crowd the three floors, ogling piles of merchandise. Traipsing from one display to another, I consult my list guide but am able to locate only a few of the desired items. On-line seems like a much better way to shop successfully.

Henry's off to the Mint and I have a couple of hours to explore a massive shopping center. A favorite space, I'm familiar with the range of stores and can maneuver through easily. Later we reconnect and, laden with shopping bags, turn toward the distant ferry terminal. I'm so grateful for Henry's suggestion that I wear my Sauconys to traverse the city.

Energy depleted, we devour a delectable grilled cheese sandwich from Cowgirl Creamery before boarding the ferry back to Larkspur. The return trip is just as spectacular, but this time it's crowded with passengers traveling home at the end of the work day. Our hotel is about three hundred yards from the dock, a leisurely stroll.

In the evening, we search for food and are quite content with the menu at The Counter, having eaten at their Times Square location in May. Leaving the restaurant, we chance upon a gigantic turkey. This bird is inanimate but its purpose is noble. Climb a few stairs, open a hatch and place canned goods inside to be distributed to needy families in time for Thanksgiving.

On Saturday, we're spending the day with soccer. Many matches, actually. Our second grade great-niece, Brooke, is smartly dressed in her team uniform. Pony-tailed seven year olds, with the exception of Eliza whose dark Dutch bob sets her apart, dash around the field. Their eyes are mostly on the ball and some demonstrate budding athletic skills. All are having fun. Parents, grandparents, siblings, and at least one great-uncle and aunt, cheer. The Sharks win every match despite having so few players that there are no substitutes available.

In the early afternoon, we're at yet another field. This time we're supporting fourth graders with great-niece, Drew, as a team member and nephew, Keith, an Assistant Coach. Also named Sharks, these girls are a bit more sophisticated, better attuned to the nuances of the game given their additional years of play. Ponytails prevail, hair is somewhat longer, bodies have grown significantly. Enough players are present to allow much needed frequent substitutions. Given that these girls already played in the morning, it's amazing that their energy level remains so high. The field appears vast and I'm sure I couldn't run from one to the other even once. But then, fourth grade for me was a long, long time ago. Several of the parents of the second grade Sharks also have girls on this team. The match ends with a tie. Exhausted girls have satisfied smiles.

The sports marathon continues as families, all with girl children, gather at the Stimsons' home to root for the San Francisco Giants. With stunning bay views as a backdrop, guests wander inside and out.

The downstairs playroom buzzes with residual adrenalin and this creative collection of friends is soon presenting skits in front of the adults during commercial breaks. Henry shares his paper airplane prowess with the group. I engage little Eliza in conversation covering topics such as favorite foods (She inquires, "Do you like broccolini?") and the difficulty of playing soccer with short hair.

There's a new resident named Fender. A rescue kitty, this feline is a perfect pet. She accepts endless cuddling, explores the house with boundless curiosity, and projects a people friendly personality.

I, who generally disdain cats of any kind, find Fender appealing. She, not intentionally, causes me to experience a near asthma attack which I forestall with antihistamines. We're friends from afar.

Our final day could include more soccer but we choose a leisurely lunch in the bright sunshine. While I'm checking on the order, two ladies approach our table and ask if they can share our shade. I return to find them engaged in a financial discussion with Henry. One is a local and the other lives in Fresno. Muni bonds, Treasury notes, stock (frowned upon at this house), 401Ks are considered in depth. They take notes on napkins and ask informed questions. I nibble on my tuna melt, drink more iced tea and return to the bakery for a scrumptious hazelnut croissant. This discourse is very familiar. I'm always impressed with Henry's financial acumen and his ability to transmit his knowledge to others.

Keith and Henry want to look at houses for sale in the area. Alisa has a tennis match. I'm happy to remain in the house with the girls and several of their friends. My allergic reaction to Fender has mostly dissipated and I watch bemusedly as she tries to participate in the kids' game of hide and seek.

The house hunt continues with several new possibilities. Such a life-altering decision with so many factors to consider. Exhilarating and intimidating at the same time. The family will find its new home where memories will be stored for everyone. With so many friends and a stellar school system, this is a good place to reside.

Six of us share dinner, glimpse a bit of the final Giants game, and talk about the next time we'll be together. Spring in the desert has become a Stimson family tradition that all of us are eager to maintain. Perhaps we'll add San Francisco to our annual travels.