Warm Inside

Summer has been cold in The Groove this week.  Birds are flying around wearing down booties and vests, and furry wildlife members of the community have not been willing to give up their winter coats just yet.  It's 55 degrees right now, the middle of the day, the middle of June.  I have an icicle hanging from my nose and my fingers are stiff.

Lucky I have this warm laptop to keep me warm.

After my swim this morning (yes! I'm sticking with it!), I showered in dismally tepid water and drove away from the college feeling shivery.  Is it summer?  Really?  Please send some heat, people!  I'll trade you some heat for this murky chill.  You can keep the mosquitoes though.

The cold in my core was crying for something warm and comforting.  I needed reviving, something just short of mamma. The Wild Plum is on the way home, and feels like home used to, full of comfort and peace.  I hadn't stopped in for a long time, but I remembered they have deep, rich lattes to snuggle up to.  

The Wild Plum Cafe has made its reputation on homemade-style baked goods that are very different from the French style available right around the corner at Parker-Lousseau (another post, another day).  Hearty, organic muffins and poofy "steamer-style" eggs are typical of their fare.  (A steamer is pretty much the kind of eggs you can make yourself in the microwave oven - very fluffy texture.)  I've been to a few seminars, meetings around town that have been catered by The Wild Plum.  Large "wraps" and burritos are huge favorites.  Portions are generous in size, colorful and healthy, good for what ails ya, like our icebox summer weather.

I ordered a health-neutral repast of bacon, eggs and a large bowl of fruit.  Latte please, please, please!  I had hardly knocked the frost off my shoulders when my food arrived.  I think that was about a three-minute wait.

A table of four women near me filled the air with laughter and smiles.  They were trading photos of kids and catching up on each others' lives.  I suddenly wanted to cry and felt a lump.  Emotions, my dear, emotions arising at the oddest times.  I laughed and chided myself for having wandered out of my own opera, but I saw the familiarity they had with each other, the companionship and loving regard for lives lived on bumpy roads.  Warmth and humor, set with mason jars of flowers and platters of real honest food.

Again, I felt grateful to be enjoying fine health in a bountiful region.  I saw the blessed faces of the women encircling the table, knew nothing about them except that they were filled up with love, so abundantly obvious in all their eyes.

The interior of the place is accented with plum-toned paint and art in the California organic hippie genre.  I'll call it that, but it's not meant as a disparagement.  Everything looks handmade, earnest, organic, comforting.  Wait staff are casual and friendly, smiling right into your eyes, and mean it when they call "Thank you!" as you leave.  

My latte did its work and I felt reinvigorated, but the day was no lighter outside than before, still 55 degrees.  The only difference between Monterey where The Wild Plum is and here in Pacific Grove is that here we have a stiff breeze, too.  Yes, summer is lovely, but warmth is here in our hearts, perhaps in defiance of the cold gray expanses of the Pacific skies.