Such beautiful country...we have to fight to save it. Autumn Rituals Near noon, it is warm for the coast, almost close with the moon half gone but holding her own over an ocean a few shades darker than the haze. Vultures soar in the thermals above women who stoop, reach deep into blackberry canes, staining their hands with the ripened juices of sweet invasives. Most are too young to wonder or too old to care what kind of bird once circled the Pomos, sang in the scrub before we dozed their land, planted more berries than needed for pies and jam. And over the ridge where bright hot air balloons offer wine-tasting views, grapes are sovereign. Arm in arm, they line dance for dollars while we drink our pinot and try to remember when rivers were cleaner and hills didn’t slide, the ghostly glow of old mistletoe, birds gone silent where live oaks grew.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 00:37:07 +0000
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