It’s hard to walk the Palisades.
Not turn off on Montana.
Stop to pick up morning coffees.
For exhausted parents.
At Café Luxxe.
But today, I turned around.
To pack at the hotel.
Fly east to palmless parks.
Once again, say farewell.
Lynn Benjamin
March 21, 2023
Santa Monica is a visual, olfactory, spiritual paradise.
Views of mountains, shorelines.
Aromas of lavender, rosemary.
Ocean breezes, salt air.
But the magnet for me are three Benjamin boys.
In the house on 14th and Montana.
Who light up a room, a street, a beach.
With smiles, exuberance, antics.
Pretending, inventing, tasting new foods.
Making cookies with their bodies.
Rising on toes as they mash the butter.
Toss the sugar.
Pour the flour.
Fingers shape the mass into a ball.
Press it flat.
To use five cutters.
But, three fall to the floor.
Roll out of reach under a cabinet.
No matter.
They dip into sprinkles.
Push a chocolate chip into each.
Agree to eat penne and pesto.
Till the buzzer signals time for the sweet treat.
To exit the oven.
Admiring the handiwork,
each surveys, chooses his own.
Grandchildren amaze.
Each motion, milestone.
Lynn Benjamin
March 21, 2023
Nothing compares to Sunday morning in Santa Monica.
Along the walkways of Palisades Park.
Running parallel and above the Pacific.
The beach.
Under majestic palms.
Australian Tea Trees.
Alongside California Brittlebush.
Birds of Paradise.
Among finches.
Crows.
Seagulls.
Cliff squirrels.
Joggers.
Bike riders.
Skaters.
Dog walkers.
A spot for anyone who prizes beauty.
Loves sea and salty air.
Always something new in bloom.
For poetry or prayer.
Lynn Benjamin
March 20, 2023
Only four-and-a-half hours by plane.
From Honolulu to Los Angeles.
From one garden paradise to another.
To see family for a weekend.
Break up the return to Philadelphia.
Who knew I’d see the monument to John P. Jones?
On my morning wander?
Co-founder of Santa Monica.
US senator from Nevada for thirty years.
Lover (like me) of Palisades Park.
Where he’d sit to watch sunsets.
I was heartened on my favorite walk.
I could learn a new fact
about a figure I didn’t know
who made an impact.
Lynn Benjamin
March 19, 2023
Santa Monica is always full of surprises.
From long flowering yuccas.
To unexpected vegetable gardens.
Vines heavy with peas.
To pink Coco robots ready to do errands.
To the oddest marriage I’ve seen.
Between a palm tree, tall and slender.
And a Morton Fig, leafy and shady.
Whose trunk and roots enveloped the palm.
With a passion hot and heavy.
It was a wonder that the palm could breathe.
But there they were.
Entwined.
Entangled.
Interlocked.
A beacon to couples
who don’t get along.
Two very different trees.
Growing healthy, strong.
Lynn Benjamin
March 20, 2023
Two days in Honolulu.
The day before our flight, Arthur, two, made a pronouncement.
As he headed upstairs to the toy room.
Someone keep an eye on me.
But then he glanced at Bob and me, grandparents.
Added, not old eyes.
We laughed in the kitchen.
For we understood.
He wanted his parents’ younger eyes on him.
Our old eyes were to leave for Hawaii.
An old island.
To spend a day with old friends.
Exploring an old culture.
Toddlers are drawn to familiar, smooth.
While we have corrugated skin.
They have not learned it yet.
But, experience lies within.
Lynn Benjamin
March 10, 2023
Santa Monica is full of eye riveting trees.
Impossible not to notice.
And want to know the species.
It’s invigorating to look up and see palm trees, said Bob.
Why do you say that? I asked.
Cause there’re so beautiful!
He’s right. They are.
Everywhere you look in Santa Monica, you see palms.
On lawns.
Sidewalks.
In parks.
You also see nísperos.
Banana trees.
Red flowering gums.
Bottlebrushes.
Agaves.
You could just stick to greenery.
But LA is an innovator in tech as well.
Little pink robots trolling streets.
But, what about that vehicle labeled Waymo?
It’s rooftop tube rotating wildly.
What is that? I wondered.
A police car?
An FBI investigative unit?
There was no driver.
No steering wheel.
I wound up asking my son.
What is a Waymo?
His answer:
A self-driving vehicle.
Taking photos of the geography.
To offer taxi services here.
Like in Phoenix and San Francisco.
Autonomous electric car.
Without steering wheel or brakes.
Already operating in two cities.
Learning not to make mistakes.
Lynn Benjamin
March 7, 2023
Time darts away in Santa Monica.
Like hummingbirds do.
Hovering over blooms.
Moving on to the next.
Then disappearing with a flap of wings.
Impossible to catch with a camera.
Gone.
Out of sight.
Like days here.
Why does night descend before you blink?
Perhaps three boys consume the minutes.
Gobble them up.
In their whirlwind.
Birthday parties.
Visits to the playground.
Ripping open household packages.
Inventing rocket ships.
Building magna tiles.
Inhaling meals.
Running in circles.
Knocking over things in their path.
Add up the minutes.
Day vanishes.
Barely a second to relax.
When the baby smiles, it’s a thank you
for everything you do.
Pause the bustle, smile back.
Parent-infant rendezvous.
Your toddler thinks he’s grown up.
Likes to trick and joke.
While Mister Four craves projects
to tie and pin and poke.
Each in his way tells you
that these days of jump and fetch
pollinate the future.
Grow boys who sprout and stretch.
Lynn Benjamin
March 8, 2023
Things change quickly in Southern California.
Palms grow taller.
Flowers bloom bigger.
Hummingbirds, finches take on fresh responsibilities.
Pollinating more flowers.
But the biggest change I notice from Fall to Spring.
Is that grandboys move on.
The oldest ready for kindergarten.
Studying planets.
Manipulating numbers.
The middle one in pre-school.
No longer pointing out trucks on the street.
From his stroller.
And the baby, too young to talk.
Takes it all in.
Observing brothers, parents, visitors.
From one perch or another.
Carriage, carrier, lap, arms.
Things change quickly in Southern California.
Can’t stop them, press on brakes.
So, just enjoy the journey.
Snap lots of photos, keepsakes.
Lynn Benjamin
March 6, 2023
My son greeted me.
Ez would like you to make rainbow cookies with him.
One activity in a list we could do together.
Rainbow cookies? I asked, doubt clouding my voice.
Then, I don’t make rainbow cookies.
Thinking of the artificial ingredients in jimmies, food colors.
And of all the cookies I do make.
Tofu chocolate chip.
Gingerbread.
Hamentashen.
Almond.
Oatmeal.
So, it took a little bending.
Mental calisthenics.
To stretch back in time.
To the cookies I made with my own preschoolers.
Why, of course, Cookie Monster cookies.
Those forgiving nuggets.
Butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, baking powder, salt.
That don’t care whether you refrigerate for an hour.
Roll them out.
Use cutters to make shapes.
Simply roll up your sleeves.
Dig in.
No utensils.
Mix with your fingers.
Make letters, numbers.
Flowers, trees.
Paint with food color.
Sprinkle rainbow hued candies.
Bake at 400 degrees till lightly browned.
Voilà!
Rainbow cookies for Ez to make.
Bare hands to mix and stir.
Creative, messy, original.
For the amateur connoisseur.
Lynn Benjamin
March 6, 2023
