Dear Friends,
Months back I was scared to drive into the hills, but finally the rises and curves don’t bother me, and I think they’re gorgeous.
We celebrated Wyatt’s 4th birthday at a park in Placerville, a small town 45 rolling minutes northeast of Sacramento — a gorgeous drive with real mountains beckoning in the distance. Liz and Lawren selected a shady area for the party, and we even caught a little breeze. Not far away in the hot noon sun a fantastic red and yellow children’s play lot loomed -- glowing and scaldingly empty. The kids sprayed each other with water guns and we adults leaned back on the grass and watched.
On the way back to the car I chatted with a woman who said she’d lived here off and on her whole life. “We have a beautiful place,” she said, gesturing to the big houses on the top of the hill. She said she loves the country and was going to walk her dog on “the path” this morning, but decided against it. “They had a sign that there was a cougar around,” she said, “so I stayed in the park.”
Before we went home Zing and I walked down Main Street, past art galleries and restaurants and a big thing that looks like a cross between a bell tower and a beer stein, which seems to be a good-natured sign for a beer celebration tonight.
Love,
k
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| I’m trying to get a photo of those pink words on the right (to you) side of my face, but the window reflections make it hard |
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