This rainy day makes me remember a few times when we would go to our family cabin in the redwood forest of Mendocino County and it would have rained there just prior to us arriving. Hubby and I always find our way there when we need to recharge from life in the burbs'.
Mile Marker 8 Irmulco Road
From the cabin I walk down to the creekbed looking for something colorful to press between two pages. Glancing about, I see shades of green. The wild rosehips and the red leaves of early poison oak are the only contrast and neither would make a good decoration on an handmade greeting card.
The smells of the short rainstorm a few days previous have dissipated but as I step into the shallow water, I deeply breathe in the dampness. Overhead I hear the blades of the CAMP helicopter searching out the local pot gardens. With the wind in the right direction you can sometimes get a whiff of that tell-tale aroma.
Noticing the shadows becoming longer, I think to myself that after a perfect vacation day doing almost nothing, it must be naptime. I can tell by the sun that it's mid-afternoon. That comfy couch inside will be my siesta place until supper time. Heading towards the deck I hear the soft snoring of my spouse.
As darkness falls, I tune in the only rock station on the radio that permeates the coastal range into our canyon. We settle in to read under the light of propane lamps, sometimes great literature from the bookshelf, sometimes the junk newspapers that seem to be a tradition since the time of Grandma Susie. "Listen to this, midget baby space alien found wandering the Sonoran Desert".
Our little foray out of suburbia that is meant to replenish and refresh us won't last long enough. Yet being here 24 hours I can feel the symptoms of the humdrum and routine of daily life sloughing away. Eat, nap, read, repeat. Turn another page and pass the Milano cookies...
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