Beyond Cuckoo

Bird Blessed

Today is Blake’s sixty-third birthday. Forty years ago we arrived in Sonoma County from Spokane Washington in our sixty-six Chevy camping van, pulling a U-Haul trailer with a German shepherd riding shotgun. We landed on a property belonging to the Trentadue Family. For some Déjà vu (also the name of our German shepherd at the time) today we did some wine tasting at the same location. The winery has changed a great deal, but the “Yellow House” crash pad, though now remodeled, looks pretty much the same. In 1976, the interior was draped in Eastern Indian print bedspreads with cotton Oriental rugs covering the beat up wooden floors. SRJC college students lived in the barn in livestock stalls. It was these students who poured wine for the first Sonoma County Harvest Fairs from laminate folding tables. It cost a few dollars to get in, and if you knew folks you could drink your fill all afternoon. Sex and drugs flowed as freely as the wine and a good time was had by all. Here’s an excerpt from my memoir “Balanced on the Edge of the Crowd” from Chapter 14 titled “Sonoma Mountain”. I guess what’s Beyond Cuckoo is that as much as things have changed; so much has stayed the same. Most of Sonoma County is as rural, protestors are once again in the news–however, the wine has gotten better 🙂

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September 3, 1976, I turned twenty-four.  No snow tires this year for my birthday—my gift, was a move to Sonoma County, California. We followed Paul’s directions to the Healdsburg ranch. Late afternoon shadows rippled across the driveway as we turned right off of Healdsburg Avenue—gravel crunching beneath our tires.  A tan school bus with brown trim sat parked in the vineyards.  I saw Claudia through the open door.

“This must be the place,” I said. “Pull up there.” I pointed to a grassy level spot a few yards ahead.

Blake maneuvered the van and U-Haul into position. I got out, walked to the bus, and knocked at the open door. “Anybody home?” I asked, knowing Claudia was inside.  From past experience, I didn’t expect a warm greeting.

“Oh. Hi. Here so soon?” Claudia glanced in my direction, then back down at her knitting. The baby next to her stretched, gurgled, and opened her eyes. Claudia frowned. “Well, I guess she’s awake now,” she said with an angry look at me. “I hoped she’d sleep another hour. She’s been so cranky today.”

I shifted my stance on the steps. “Is Paul around?” I glanced over my shoulder to see if Blake was coming.

“He’s at the house.  It’s up the hill a ways.”

I backed out the open door and stumbled into Blake, who caught me before I hit the ground. I winced from a slightly twisted ankle and waited for the blood to drain from my face, before I choked out: “Let’s find Paul. Claudia’s busy with the baby.”

Blake let Déjà out of the van, and he ran ahead as we hiked up the hill. The potholed road, flanked by prune orchards, ended at a rustic farmhouse.  The sounds of music, chatter, and laughter poured from the open windows.

“Déjà, you stay outside. We’ll be right back,” Blake commanded. We climbed the front steps to the wooden porch.  As we approached the open door, we heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, Paul,” Blake called out.

Paul stood and came toward us. “Hey, man, you made it. C’mon in. I’ll introduce you around.”

Paul rattled off our names, then showed us around the four bedroom house. The country kitchen, filled with at least fifteen people, caught my eye.  “Wow, how many people live here?” I could see only one bathroom.

“Only three couples and Carlos. Let’s go outside, I’ll fill you in about the setup.”

Paul led us to the backyard, where several men and women sat in a circle. They had small paperback books on their laps as they talked. No one gave us a second glance.

Paul explained that a local winery family owned this ranch and another house in Geyserville. Their son, Carlos, had a vision to create a commune based on Mao Zedong’s, Little Red Book. We had stumbled on the daily discussion group.

“Is that Carlos?” I asked, gesturing toward a tall, dark, long-haired man leading the discussion.

“That’s him.” Paul took my elbow and steered me away, whispering, “He doesn’t like to be interrupted. Let’s go this way.”

As we strolled the grounds, Paul repeated some of what he’d told us in Spokane: students from the local junior college lived on both properties in exchange for work. There was little structure. The core group lived in the farmhouse and a converted garage.  Several small travel trailers, along with a few green canvas tents housed the seasonal help.  The Yellow House in Geyserville was home to the rest of the community. “The barn next to that house had ten animal stalls converted to bedrooms,” Paul said. “At least fifty people come and go on a regular basis.”

“So, if we leave our van parked next to your school bus, can we use the bathroom and shower in the house?” Blake asked.

“Sure, but it’s first-come, first-served. There’s a waiting line in the mornings, but you can usually get in later in the day. It’s hit or miss. Claudia and I use the vineyard as a restroom. It’s too much of a hassle to climb the hill each time. Grape leaves make good toilet paper.”

I didn’t want to ask where everyone else relieved themselves.  My guess was— anywhere convenient. We followed Paul back down to the bottom of the hill and our van. Paul’s black and white border collie, Moose, met up with us, and she and Déjà took off in a romp. Claudia emerged from the bus, baby in arms, and handed her off to Paul.

“Here, take Eden.  I’m going up to the house for a shower. Where have you been all day?” she snarled at him.

“I went to see Kenny, then to school. Are you going to start hassling me again?”

Saying nothing, Claudia tossed a towel over her shoulder and stormed up the hill.  Blake and I slowly retreated to the safety of our van.

Paul’s voice shook. “Did you guys bring dinner with you?  I already ate and she won’t be back for awhile.”

“We’re fine. Don’t worry about us,” I said. Wondering if it wasn’t such a good idea staying here.

I looked at Blake. “Why don’t we turn the van around to face the other way? That way our side doors will open out with a view of the vineyard and we won’t keep anyone up at night with our lights.”

“Good idea,” Paul said as he carried his daughter inside.

“Whew! A little chilly out this evening, don’t you think?” I opened the passenger door and grabbed for my sweater.

“In more ways than one,” Blake added.

The next morning, I awoke before sunrise. It was too early for dog and man, but I had plans for a shower before the masses lined up. Donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants, I grabbed the toiletry bag and a towel.  The flashlight sent an eerie glow ahead until I reached my destination.  The unlocked door to the house squeaked as I pushed.  As I tiptoed toward the bathroom, I prayed to the hot water goddess. Once inside, I flipped the latch closed and the light on. Hot water! Success, and without awakening anyone. I took a long leisurely shower.

Half an hour later the sun peeked over the hillside.  I lingered on the front porch, surveying the beauty.  A crow sat on the railing.

“Hello, big guy,” I said.

The bird tilted his head and came closer. I held out my hand. The bird didn’t move. He seemed to expect something—food maybe?

“Wait here and I’ll find you some breakfast.”

I went back into the house and found a cluster of grapes on the kitchen table.  I made a mental note to add grapes to our shopping list, determined to replace anything we took.

Back outside, my new friend waited. I settled on the front steps, and the black bird fluttered to my side. He ate freely from my hand—then hopped onto my knee. I surmised that although wild, he had this routine down. We shared the sweetness of the morning, and the tart breakfast, until only stems remained in my hands. I tossed the debris in the flower bed and stretched. Mr. Crow followed suit, fanning his wings until I could see light between the tips of his feathers. I picked up my bag and he flew toward the tall trees in the distance. Clean, fed, and bird blessed, I made my way down the hill.