Misty Memories

We complain too much about the rain in Southern California. We forget that we need the rain... how important it is to our existence. We also forget to see the beauty in the gray days. I know I'm guilty of that. Too many gray days, and I start to get stabby. Maybe it's because my body is accustomed to sunlight having grown up and lived most of my life in Southern California. I did leave the sun for a while once. And I loved every bit of it.

For a few years, I lived in Northern California in a kooky little part of the world called Marin. It's a beautiful place that can't really be compared to any other location... except maybe Narnia. If you ever visit San Francisco, do yourself a favor and rent a car. Go north over the Golden Gate bridge. Get off on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard and turn left. Then take your time on the leisurely drive up the road.

Plan for lots of detours.

On that road, you will find the sweetest little towns with funky main streets where writers and artists and quiet geniuses sip their chais and stroll slowly by, stopping to say hello to everyone that passes. You'll discover wonderful restaurants and bakeries, tiny bookstores, head shops, and yoga studios. Look up and you will see such tall trees... as tall as you've ever seen... growing higher and higher on the mountains... mistiness clinging to the very tops as the mountains seem to disappear into the sky.

It is truly a magical place.

There is mistiness hanging on the trees in San Diego today making me long for that special place up north... the place I promised myself I would someday return to. I walked down to the beach in the drizzle earlier, wind chilling my face. It felt good just to feel the memories. In a few days, I might tire of the gray and the cold.

But maybe not.

Maybe I'll still be enjoying the memories of that misty place I once called home.

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Just in case you ever get there... Visit Marin.