I had been volunteering for a heritage fruit tree grafter, trading hours for baby trees.  The foundation orchard was in Bolinas, and I did six beautiful rare Apple illustrations for a catalog that was never published.  In May 1993 my unemployment insurance ran out, and I started up a gardening business with my friend Tracy.  It was pretty slow, and we still had time to get away now and then for a week or more.

(notes on a photograph–July 16, Desolation Wilderness, Loon Lake. Was this a different trip than–)

Rt 50 through Pyramid Lake.   This was a great trip, the first Nevada Hot Springs trip, via Austin and Route 50.  This route was partially suggested by my friend Melodie, who said to check out Berlin/Ichtyosaur.  Good Call.   Spencer’s Hot Spring was a great place to hang out, and we went back and camped there again before heading south via Goblin Knobs, Lake Pahrahnagat.  We attempted the back road to Area 51, where we had two flat tires on our Bridgestone “Desert Duelers” that couldn’t handle the sharp quartz splinters of the freakin’ DESERT.

August 15, in Palmdale for Marty’s birthday with Fred, Jo, Lance, Martha and the cousins.  We spent evenings drinking beer in the garage, playing guitar, the kids begging Uncle Steve for  “Hang On Sloopy”.

The wash behind Soliah’s, August 1993

Notes:  Picnic at Little Rock Dam, driving around El Mirage (10 acres, $8,000)  Saddleback Buttes, cool old abandoned stone houses–possibly 1995

September-?  I remember once in Palmdale a big storm came through.  Memory has it that it was the remnants of Hurricane Emily (8/22-9/6/93) that had spun off and come across the southern states all the way to the high desert.  Steve was on the patio when the brunt of it hit–I looked out the back door and he was hanging onto the round patio table for dear life, using it as a shield against the fierce horizontal rain.   In a few seconds the wind died down, and he was able to make it into the house.  Out front, the street was a rushing torrent, flooding over the curb.   Many intersections around town flooded, and the wash out back flowed for days afterward.

10/93  Abalone diving w Bones

I am unable to find a dedicated journal, or a calendar with anything about trips in 1993.  I was so overwhelmed, unemployed, fighting with my landlord to keep my apartment on Emerson Street.  I did a lot of volunteer work at Dharma Trading Company, packing books and making bindings, eating wonderful massive organic Friday lunches, until Rinpoche decided we needed to heat-seal everything in PVC film  .  .  .  which i cannot do, after five-point-five years working in the Toluene/Xylene/perfume industry.

In March? we went to Rollerville and a short weekend fishing trip with Bones and Mae,  and I took the photograph from which I later painted this acrylic on Bristol board piece.  In Sept/October we went back to do some Abalone diving–I had a suit and gear, and almost put my face in the water, but was way too scared, and smart, to get in that cold, dark, green water.

I flew to San Diego at Easter and spent some time with my friend Linda, moved my garden to Essex Street in June.

I spent a good bit of volunteer time with Living Tree Nursery, where I learned to graft fruit trees, and did a series of illustrations for a catalog that never got published.  Although I did end up with a number of rare apple and pear trees in trade, and did some gorgeous drawings, which I had framed.  I also did some delivery work for them in the 1979 Datsun pickup–down the coast to Santa Cruz and back through S.F, stopping to smell the ocean, to the the extreme distress of my “boss” Jesse-who thought I was charging him $7 an hour for my lunch break.  W???  (“October 15 11-3 pm almond butter”)

So, that was how I came to start a gardening business with my friend Tracy, which lasted until May 1995 when we came to an abrupt end over bookkeeping discrepancies.

Meanwhile, playing music, did I mention I had gotten a bass guitar in 1991 and joined a couple of bands after the Inches fell away?

We did continue to visit Palmdale on a regular basis, often camping on the way there, or on the return trip.