It was a cold, pure day. No clouds, just a high pale blue dome and a brilliant sun in it. The winter drear traded for the sharp bright relief of a false spring.

We were going to the beach. It was our first “just for the heck of it” trip since before the pandemic. Our lives had changed during that time. This would be a test of our new ability level, what we could functionally do, and what we could tolerate. The road was welcome. The tug of the curve, the back pull of acceleration on the straight aways. Distant filbert orchards a fuzzy pink of new catkin growth, and once…a leafless tree full of last seasons red apples. Unpicked. Unfallen. It was a gift.

We took the back route; the road full of sharp turns as it followed property lines and the river. A sharp turn at Buena Vista through orchards dropped our speed to 20 mph. We cleared the turn and were surprised with an unexpected view of Mt. Jefferson, huge and stark white beyond the brown fields below us.  It was a gift too. Our breath held till we turned and lost the view. We didn’t say much after; good omens are best not discussed, they might get jinxed.

The sun through the windshield kept us warm as we wound through the back country, and we got sleepy. It strobed between trees in a wooded section, and we got dizzy. It was a thoroughly satisfying ride only improved by cresting the last hill to see the ocean below. It was dark jade with white bands of waves. Not a cloud in sight.

The perfect weather stayed with us for three days and followed us home.

I don’t have a homily for this post (a tedious moralizing discourse). We wanted to try our wings again with little expectation. We just went and enjoyed our stay. We snacked a bit, read a lot, and stared at the water for hours. It was a very productive, non-productivity.

It was a gift.

Blessings

Posts The Road