Unfortunately, we arrived into an incomparable heat wave hitting SoCal from always cool Mendocino. But, we had the opportunity to stop in and see our kids up north and came home to the cats, V and our grandog Adelaide! All is well!
Farewell for now to the rustic NorCal coast. As the sea crashes, the fog rolls and the colors wash, the dramatic scenery increases.
“It’s like the little town where time stood still,” said M.
“It’s like heaven,” said I.
Quaint and rustic and wild and floral and treed and birdsong and crashing waves and celestial rocks. Good ole wild west Americana on July 4th.
Where the owners of a small town jam store overlooking the Pacific Ocean know us via in common human connections.
In a perfect world, the trees on earth would meet the sky against a watery, silver horizon.
A view from our room at the Standford Inn.
In Mendocino, I travel to Cabot Cove and I find sparkle in every fog, drama in every crashing cliff and life reaching in every crevice. The hand of Goddess is everywhere as the sea stains the rock with spray and the howling wind caresses the grasses with scented blue rays of air.