Saddleback Mountain stands silent, motionless, stoic above frantic, superficial California as a reminder that some remnant of wildness persists beyond the freeways and strip malls.
1980 we spent the entire year, all twelve months, on the avocado ranch. It was our magical time in paradise. We were alive then with youth, not quite knowing how happy we were.
The sea lion ambled into view as I leaned over the railing of the Balboa Pier in Newport Beach, California. Was she performing for the excited audience on the pier above? Or did we see ballet through our anthropomorphizing gaze? ♨