The other California:
Unpeopled, quiet. A place of dramatic beauty, wildlife, and visual wisdom.
With our dogs in the back seat and our trailer in tow, we headed there last week. My veterinarian husband, accustomed to creating microclimates of sterility for on-farm surgeries, kept us on a Covid-free path. A perfect pandemic travel partner.
The perfect travel partner anytime, actually. He listens to things like trees and weather. Animals. Rivers. The land.
Things like these:
Oregon Douglas firs—strong, tall.
“. . . as we mature to the full measure of the stature of Christ . . .”
Live oaks under formerly spacious skies.
Morning fog near Big Sur.
“Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart.”
Ring-necked snake, bluffing.
Hiking with our daughter in the redwoods, I spotted him stretched across the trail.
Step over me. Dare ya.
“Looks dead,” I said, and snapped a pic.
“I don’t think so.” My brave girl flicked him off the path with a stick, and he slithered into the brush. I veered the other direction.
Turns out he and his kind are harmless, but who knew?
“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore, be shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves.”
Sunset near a holding field on a high mesa. Palpable holiness.
“I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night—but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as the day.”
Bears, cougars, bobcats, coyotes, deer, raccoons . . . countless creatures travel these hills, though mostly at night, or in the golden hours. We were hiking in this spot mid-day, so saw only the evidence of their passage—and the effect of long-established fences.
“Never move an old property line that your ancestors established.”
Do any of these speak to you? Would love to hear how.
Thanks for traveling with me, friends.
Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks.