For the Love of California

I was born and raised in California so when I see, for me, the quintessential California scene my heart won’t be quiet and my eyes refuse to be still as they rove from one delightful scene to another.   My feet want to walk and walk, exploring the nooks and crannies.  They want to jump  from rock to rock as the little girl in me did, but my jumping from rock to rock days are mostly over.  I lull on the edges of the water, tossing stones, dreaming, loving my memories.  These  rolling foothills, sparse trees (mostly pine and oak), grasses, sage, manzanita make up the understory and huge boulders with plenty of smaller rocks and a river running through it.  All awesome!  Absolute perfection.

We are on the Kern River here, just below the Isabella Lake damn in Southern California.  

Benton seems to be equally happy in this landscape but I’m pretty sure he only has eyes for the ground squirrels, putting his nose deep into one hole after another, then wildly running to the next and next.  One happy dog!  Of course he would be happier if we would throw sticks into the river for him to chase, but the river is high and fast with winter waters.  It would be dangerous.  Ed and I are saved from Benton’s constant stick chasing love by the ground squirrels that capture his attention.

The rain and snow this year in California has been epic, after years of  dry, so the landscape is green and beautiful.  I’m hoping the snow pack will help curb wildfires.  After years of draught California has not had a lick of summer water flowing down the streams, melting into the shady canyons, or oozing over the meadows for a very long time.  All valuable ways fire is curbed.  Raking doesn’t quite cut it!  But snow pack does!

I could stay here for weeks, it is so beautiful.  Plus, although cold at night, the days are warm, but not hot and the sky is blue.  More perfection!

We just finished a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and roasted potatoes, but now we hit the road.  But first a walk about to enjoy this beautiful spot one last time before driving away.

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All Nature’s wildness tells the same story:  the shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, roaring, thundering waves and floods, the silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort, each and all, are the orderly, beauty-making love-beats of Nature’s heart.

John Muir