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(Photo by D. Ramey Logan)
“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.”
Jack Kerouac, describing a California sunset in On the Road
Like Antaeus, who regained his strength and was healed by touching the earth, I need, from time to time, to come home to California. I think that I’ve only once gone more than a year without spending at least some time in my native state, and that was during my mission to Switzerland. (If I had to break the pattern . . . well, Switzerland was about the best place I could find for it.) One other time, not too long ago, I suddenly realized that December was coming and that I hadn’t been back yet that year. I began plotting a visit to — if nothing else — somewhere just over the state line. Providentially, though, a better excuse for a real visit suddenly arose, and I escaped the horror.
Azaleas, eucalyptus, the sea, cool oceanside summer evenings, and, in December, Christmas the way it’s supposed to be — with blue skies and palm trees.
Posted from Newport Beach, California
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