By Louie Ferrera

I was catching up recently with an old friend during a lengthy phone conversation. After the initial exchange of  pleasantries, she posed the inevitable question, “What have you been up to?” My reply? “I’ve been busy, very busy.”

I’ve been busy watching the lilies. Planted as bulbs in winter, the plants have grown straight and strong, each single stalk sporting between eight and ten zeppelin shaped yellow blossom pods. We were beginning to wonder if these pods would ever bloom when the recent onset of hot summer weather forced the issue. A few of the pods began to show signs of opening at their tips, however, nothing prepared me for what I saw this morning shortly after sunrise. One of the pods had burst forth in a dazzling display of form and color. Six petals had fully opened, each sword shaped tip bent gracefully backwards revealing a bright pink flower outlined in pure white with six stamen at the center. These flowers will be a feast for our eyes for weeks to come as well as a feast for the bees and hummingbirds who no doubt have been anticipating this bloom as much as we have.

I’ve been busy watching the hummingbirds. Throughout the cool spring and early summer their presence had been limited to an occasional bird or two. But it seems that the heat has brought out the hummingbirds too. From the first light of dawn to the last rays of sunset these delightful birds are a constant presence, their zips, clicks and buzzes add a joyful note to the soundtrack of each day. We have five feeders scattered throughout our yard, each one seems to have an “overlord” and an “interloper”. The overlord stands guard over its feeder from a nearby perch. When the interloper tries to steal a sip, overlord zips over and chases away the intruder, both birds doing a crazy corkscrew dance of persuit and retreat. It’s like my own personal Nature Channel, only the voice of David Attenborough is missing.

I’ve been busy watching the other birds too. Spring was alive with the arrival of migrants like tanagers and orioles. Along with the year round residents (towhees, jays, titmice…) all of the birds were busy finding mates and building nests. There was a short period of calm as they went about their domestic business, so many of the birds were a lot less visible. Lately the action has picked up, most notably with the arrival of the juveniles. These youngsters behave much like human children, they’re curious and often allow me to approach them much closer than an adult bird ever would. I can tell they’re trying to figure me out. They’ll soon realize that they need to steer clear of humans.

I’ve been busy watching the bees, their hind legs thick with pollen as they crawl slowly across the lemon yellow and popsicle orange faces of sunflowers. When the clover is in bloom, our lawn is alive with bees too. As they fly from one blossom to the next, I can put my ear up close and hear sweet bee music.

I’ve been busy watching the tomatoes; the pendulous Romas, the pumpkinesque  Early Girls, the perfectly spherical cherries. The latter are always the first to ripen. To bite into a Sungold tomato, aptly named for their sunshiny orange color, is to taste summer itself. I crunch into their skins and the warm, sweet-tangy flavor fills my mouth and nourishes my soul. Many of these tomatoes never even make it into the house. All of the other varieties we planted are still green, but a few have begun to take on the first blush of color, promising a summer of fresh, organic salads. With the bounty of veggies we’ve planted, that salad is but a short walk from our back door, waiting to be created.

I’ve been busy watching the days unfold. The soft yellow light of dawn, the bright white light of midday, the alpenglow of sunset, the purple light of dusk. When it gets dark enough, the various solar lights that we’ve placed around our yard begin to randomly blink on. The globes, lanterns and strings of LED lights add an air of enchantment to the evening.

I’ve been busy watching the moon go through its phases. I understand the scientific explanation for this phenomena but I still find it mysterious and magical.

Like I told my friend, I’ve been busy.

By Louie Ferrera

By now the anticipation level was pretty high. Think kid in a candy store. Think six year old at Christmas. Over the past week I’ve tried to keep my expectations in check but sitting here at UC Berkeley’s Greek Theater, the scene of so many evenings dancing to the Grateful Dead, I’ve reached the point where I just couldn’t wait any longer. In 15 minutes Neil Young would be taking the stage.

It’s hard to overstate the impact that Neil’s music has had on my life. I was 14 when Deja Vu came out (I still have my original vinyl copy). There’s not a dead spot on that album. I loved it all but there was something about the Neil Young songs Helpless and Country Girl, that really grabbed me back then. The high pitched whine of his voice, the inscrutable lyrics, his unique approach to acoustic guitar playing, the distorted tone and manic electric guitar solo on Woodstock all set Neil far apart from the other parts of the CSNY equation.

In the summer of 1974, I caught a show on the big CSNY reunion tour. This was the first time I’d seen Neil Young live. What really stuck in my mind that night was Neil’s brooding presence and the way he stalked the stage. It was evening and he was wearing sunglasses. His songs brought a dark biting edge to the show. Neil was part of the band but I could tell he had one foot out the door, prowling around the edges already thinking where his next musical journey would take him.

That fall I entered my freshman year of college. I had always wanted to learn how to play the guitar. Fortunately I quickly fell in with a kind and welcoming group of friends, all of whom had varying levels of proficiency on guitar. We had many common musical interests and Neil Young’s music was one thread that ran through us all. Denise and Carol had worked up a unique arrangement of Old Man, Laurie could sing like Joni Mitchell, Tim, Ben and Bruce were all solid pickers and singers. I was determined to play and sing like them so I went out and bought my first guitar, a Yamaha steel string model for $90. My new friends showed me some chords and gave me a few pointers on how to play. They tolerated a beginning hacker like myself and it was their patience and friendship that gave me the encouragement to keep playing.

However, the learning curve on guitar is steep. I had to really be committed in order to get over that hump. What eventually got me there? The music of Neil Young. I was 18, I had my own guitar and a copy of Neil’s seminal album Harvest. This is the perfect record for a beginning guitarist. The chords are basic folk type chords that could all be played in first position, the melodies and arrangements fairly straight forward and easy to follow. I basically locked myself in my room and played along with Harvest until I could play all of the songs. Needless to say I was obsessed and driven. I copied Neil’s percussive acoustic guitar style. I wanted to play like Neil, hell I wanted to be Neil!

There’s no end to learning on guitar, but I remember when I could comfortably get all the way through Heart of Gold without any mess ups as being a key moment in my musical development. I’ve been playing guitar, performing and writing songs ever since. I’ve recorded three albums of original material. One of the musical highlights of my life was playing to a packed club in Santa Cruz as part of a tribute to Neil Young. I led the band as we closed the show with a rollicking version of Rockin’ In The Free World. Music is a deeply integral part of who I am. Neil Young’s music continues to inspired me and has been a thread that’s run through my life. I am eternally grateful to him for that.

So, it’s a warm summer evening, the setting sun casts a pink glow on puffy clouds that dot the darkening sky. Towering eucalyptus trees frame the lawn at the top of the amphitheater. The place is packed. Tiny blue lights line the stage which is set up like a living room. There are four pianos, an old fashioned weather vane and a faux fireplace circled by a running set of trains. The stage backdrop is lit from below in a fiery orange hue to match the sunset. It’s weird and wonderful and as it should be and here comes Neil. He strides onto the stage in that slightly stooped, shambling style of his. He’s dressed like a train conductor from the 1800s. The long narrow brim of his cap obscures his eyes so I can only see his face from the nose down. His denim jacket is blue and pinstriped and appears to have white paint stains on it. His t-shirt reads: “Support Local Music”. Jeans and sneakers round out this unique fashion statement. The place is going nuts but I can only sit there and breathe it all in. One of the most influential people in my life grabs his 12-string Taylor acoustic guitar and begins to sing.

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By Louie Ferrera

It’s the first real heatwave of summer, the day is languid and lazy. The drone of my neighbor’s air conditioner, the jingle-jangle of the wind chimes when a welcome breeze blows through, the blip-blop of our fountains and the insect like buzz of a small airplane are all part of this dreamy soundscape. Hummingbirds have been scarce so far this summer but when one whizzes by to visit a feeder the sound is unmistakable: zivvv, click, buzzz.

All of our trees are now fully leafed out and impossibly, gloriously green so the birds are more often heard than seen. The Stellar’s jay squawks, this creature is the head avian honcho around here and always has first dibs at the feeder and fountains. Summer is when the western tanagers show up. The female is a drab yellow-green and barely stands out among the foliage of the trees. But the male, oh my! Its body is an electric, sunshiny, pulsating shade of yellow, the crown of its head the most brilliant hue of red/orange. The tanager declares, and in no uncertain terms, “Summer’s here and so am I!” Nature’s greatest mimic, the Northern mockingbird is a one bird band, singing all four parts in a crazy quartet of calls. A cabbage butterfly, an angel on the wing, zig-zags by investigating the in’s and outs of a tangerine bush.

At the peak heat of the day, our squash and bean plants wilt as if to say, “Enough is enough!” Our cat Ella has found refuge beneath the shade of the apple tree. Curled like a question mark she’s content to doze away the afternoon. The lawn needs a trim  but I think I’ll let it go a little longer. You see there are hundreds of white clover blossoms among the blades of grass and the honeybees are loving life, zipping from one flower to the next. The entire lawn is alive with them.

A day like this is the perfect advertisement for a cold beer. I grab one from the fridge then put it into the freezer for a few minutes just to make sure it is teeth cracking cold. I bring the bottle outside and it’s immediately coated with condensation, the golden contents obscured by thousands of tiny droplets. The first deep pull off of a beer on a day such as this is one of the great simple pleasures to be found in life.

There’s been lots of crazy weather lately around the country, not unexpected in these topsy turvy times of climate change. The headlines scream all types of hyperbole and terrifying warnings. Where I live, it’s simply summer and summers here get hot. When the temperatures climb into the upper 90’s I’m not going to panic. Right now a cool breeze is blowing, the sky is bluer than a newborn’s eyes and the fridge is stocked with beers. I think it’s time for another one