My favorite iron sculpture of macrocystis and float
Willie had a sore elbow while he was staying with me. He really wanted to run around with my dog. But I didn’t encourage him because of his elbow issue.
Well, after a couple days of no walks or ball throwing, I couldn’t stop him. He started running around my yard like a black tornado, taking out plants, statuary, small dogs, and kneecaps.
And of course he was limping the next day.
So my bright idea was to take him along with my dog on an adventure in my car. We would all go to a sculpture garden, The Sierra Azul Sculpture Garden in Watsonville, which of course was next to a nursery.
I happen to have a little problem with plants, sort of like some people do with alcohol, hence the name of my other blog.
So my eleven-year-old son and I loaded up the two dogs, took a trip downtown to fill up on gas, water, and chew toys, and were on our way.
We arrived at the sculpture garden about an hour later.
I thought the drive had been lovely, but my son thought he was dying a slow death. I was enjoying the weather and the landscape and the ocean views and he was watching his young life slip away.
Every moment we watched scenery and landmarks was a moment that he could have been playing video games, searching the web, or watching TV: A moment lost forever.
My son was all too happy to get out of the car, that is until he realized that he had to take one of the dogs—my dog.
My dog weighs 42 pounds. Willie weighs 90. My son weighs 60.
It was a matter of physics. I couldn’t handle two dogs and take pictures. Caesar Milan I’m not. Besides, he has a film crew.
So we stumble out of the car, I open the hatch of my Volvo, the dogs make a break for it. I grab them by their collars drop my camera, drop my cell phone. My son is giving me this I’m-so-bored-and-you’re-such-a-klutz look.
So I decide to tie my dog to my son.
Crabby child and Moondoggie next to crabby sculpture.
Yes. I tied my dog to my son, picked up my camera, picked up my phone, and grabbed Willie’s leash.
Willie does his superball jump for joy, bumps my arm, knocks my purse off my shoulder, and spills the contents.I bend over to pick up my purse and my sunglasses fall off my head.
The nursery and the garden were empty except for two or three employees who, in between watering plants, were watching the fiasco that was us.
I didn’t see any signs that indicated that dogs weren’t allowed, so I attach all my various and sundry items to my person and headed into the garden with two dogs and a bored child.
First came the pee ceremony. This was kind of uncomfortable being that the employees were still observing us. So I gave them this friendly wave as if to say, I’m sorry my dogs are peeing all over your garden and your thousands and thousands of dollars of art but there are no signs and you’re just staring at me and waving back.
I highly recommend this garden.
It was easy to get to, easy to find. The sculptures were really cool and interesting and beautiful and provocative and if I didn’t have two dogs with me, and a son who was dying a slow death from boredom, I would have gotten more information about each artist.
Hanging garden mosaic
Hanging mosaic sculpture
When we were halfway through the garden and the dogs were about halfway through their bladder stores, both dogs decided to poop.
When a dog decides to poop, there is really not much you can do about it except watch and hope for two things: One, that it comes out quick, and two, that it holds together.
I did get my second wish but it seemed like an eternity. There I was, poop bag in hand. During that eternity I happened to look up and there was that employee watering and staring. So I waved as if to say, that’s right my dogs are now sh------g in your beautiful sculpture garden and I am mortified.
Willie cautiously approaches horse statue
After the dogs were finished I took my little plastic poop bags and made big exaggerated movements to make sure the hydrating technicians saw me clean up after my dogs.
My son had finally reached critical mass in his electronic withdrawal and he talked me into leaving.I made him a deal: We could leave if he sat in the shade with the dogs and let me indulge my plant obsession for a few minutes. He agreed and for a moment all was right with the world.
I returned from the nursery minutes later after running through at break-neck speed and buying two penstemon plants.
I put the plants down behind the car, gave the dogs water, unleashed them, and dropped my purse so all the cash blew out.
While collecting the cash I dropped my reading glasses. I picked up my reading glasses and put them in my purse. I put the dogs in the back of the car, slammed Moondoggie’s leash in the hatch, pried the hatch open, and removed the leash.
My son was now in the passenger seat, begging to go.
I jumped in the driver’s seat and sped away.
My penstemon plants watched from the ground behind my car as we drove away.
I can't believe how cruel you are, taking that child away from the TV to a beautiful sculpture garden on a sunny summer day!
Looks like a wonderful place -- what a cool mosaic.
And you - so FUNNY- as always.
Did you rescue the penstemon?
Posted by: Jacqueline | 08/10/2010 at 07:14 AM
I know, right? I wouldn't even let him bring the Nintendo in the car. I am the worst. Yes, after several miles I realized the Penstemon was still at the nursery.
There were so few people at the garden, that they were still sitting in the parking lot, which was empty, waiting for us.
Posted by: Chigiy Edson | 08/10/2010 at 02:22 PM