Not What I Expected To Post, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:41am

Had life and the world gone according to plan, today I’d be posting pictures of another visit to the Post Ranch Inn and its patio of forever. But.

The hotel sits right under the word, “Post,” to the left of this map; you can see today’s Timber Fire status on the right; we were due to drive down Tuesday. The fire started Saturday afternoon. By Sunday morning I was saying, “Hmm,” by Sunday night at 11pm the hotel had been evacuated, by Monday morning we had, needless to say, cancelled our reservation.

Clearly; my missed vacation is nothing compared to the burning of the world. Although I’m sad not to have spent that time 1200 feet above the Pacific, attempting to understand the horizon, we made good use of the week. As often happens in large chunks of unexpected free time, we accomplished a lot of tasks that had been lingering. And for at least one spot of ocean, we drove over the hill to the small town of Pescadero.

Duarte’s, the well-known haunt and its artichoke soup, was closed. We ate at a gas station taqueria and the food was fantastic.

We sat at outside tables, inside being devoted to gas station foodstuffs. Papel picado flapped overhead.

Then we scooted out to beautiful Bean Hollow Beach. I saw no beans, or hollows, the ocean was too big and the water just wouldn’t sit still.

I’ve had a nice week. I have to say that the midterms are coming. Unless you actually want the countryside of our American West – Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Montana, Wyoming, Nevada, Colorado, California, and New Mexico – to turn bit by bit to ash, it would be great if you found a way to help us flip the House and Senate. I hear we need poll watchers. But every little act helps.

Have a wonderful weekend.