Edge of the World

Yesterday was brilliant. Strangely cloudless with a dose of color and energy. After a week of languishing with illness, my little family broke out into the sunshine. We jumped into the car and headed into the late afternoon. We took one of my favorite drives which is west on Graton Road heading toward Occidental proper and then up onto Coleman Valley Road to ride out over the ridge for the most spectacular views down toward the ocean (our destination).

The visuals were mythic and poured in to replace any lingering sickness. The road snaked through the woods and meadows until about Oceansong when the vista really opened out panoramic. The atmosphere was so clear we could see down across the contoured Petaluma hills and valley all the way to Point Reyes stretching out into the open sea. Due west, the sun was lowering and sending out this uncanny corona of pure white light that made it look heavy and blazing. The sea, sparkling out toward the horizon, was reflecting back the sunlight in this wide swath that looked like a gold spill. I’ve never seen the like. I couldn’t get a picture. Just too much light.

We got out to clamor about on some big boulders and drink in some icy air. I wish I could take pictures with my eyes. My mental snapshots include: the nearly full moon rising out of the bright green hills, a soft white calf rimmed in sunlight beside his majestic jet black ripple-furred mother, big stones covered in chartreuse and yarrow gold lichen against a purpling sky, that blinding spill of gold as we descended toward the water.

We got to the coast near sunset and hit Schoolhouse Beach just in time to watch the show. Everything was on fire, even the kelp ruffles littering the sand. We spied out some big meaty starfish, in orange and plum, curled into some rock crannies and poked among the sea debris for shells. All of us were just in awe at the colors on the water as the sun sank. Like painted silk in silver green lavender gray with waves fringed in pink lace. We watched the glowing orange round soften out into what Eden declared “A teacup!” A perfect apricot teacup and saucer and then just a saucer, then a drop, then gone.

We drove toward home and the big milky moon still low in a sky darkening to dusky lilac. It hung there over the dusty dark hills foaming with blooming coyote bushes. Look! A rocket! So near, it looked like it had launched from the lunar white. A jet catching a last ray of sun on it’s belly was stretching off into the night, ablaze. It’s tail stretching out behind like a veil.

I have such love for this place that I call home. My edge of the world.

Picture: Pacific Parfait. Taken by me.