Aug 11, 20222 min read

Spring Blooms in Bluff Park - Long Beach, CA

I'm a sucker for the little things, the intimate details of places that are gained from simply walking around and paying attention. I love being able to expect such working knowledges, and especially sharing them with others who may even have additional or unique insight, at the very least perhaps an appreciation. One of my favorite examples is an annual tradition in Long Beach: the blooms in Bluff Park and the adjacent beach. Every year, and without fail (I'm sure because the area is irrigated), the bluff explodes in a vast display of vibrant colors that is guaranteed to overwhelm the senses while instilling a unique Long Beach sense of place.

The California Poppy blooms run all the way down the bluff from the Art Museum on Kennebec and Ocean boulevard to just beyond Redondo avenue. The best time to view is generally from March-early May, with April being that sort of "sweet spot". I have to say that I truly appreciate the city's effort to restore and continue to cultivate native species on the bluff. We need all that we can get! Keep going! Re-wild! Of course there are some scattered blooms as early as February and as late as June or July. That's a curious little detail - what determines how and why certain blooms take initiative or persevere into the harsh months. A ribbon of a vibrant shade of orange inevitably stretches the better part of a mile along the bluff. The bees take heed of this window of unmatched opportunity. We all really ought to take this into perspective in our own lives. The only constant is change, and if the pollinators realize this and promptly seize the day (carpe diem!), then why can't each and every one of us? Not always, as being realistic is a virtue, but whenever we feel it within ourselves that possibilities are at hand, now and not forevermore. Therefore, a lesson is found in the poppies, the intricate relationships about them, and our related perception(s).

The Arroyo Lupine annually returns on the beach nearest the intersection with Redondo. Once I discovered this phenomenon it became a yearly tradition, a pilgrimage of sorts, if you will. The display put forth never fails to leave me wide-eyed and awestruck, while countless joggers, walkers, skateboarders, rollerbladers and cyclists stream by, innocently unaware of this instance of a subtle and yet not so subtle miracle. That's alright. It all comes and goes whether or not someone is there to express appreciation, astonishment, or wonder. I'm just grateful to have had the opportunity to bear witness.

The scent of coastal sagebrush wafts in the evening air, combining forces with the salty sea spray to produce a sensation that overwhelms those with acute sensibilities. I never tired of it, and I still don't. Walks at this time of day inherently become a touch more magical, with an enhanced capacity to clear the mind of the type of unnecessary clutter that we never need and yet tend to hold on to for far too long.