The Burrow

It's not the prettiest part of the desert, nor the pretties part of the Golden State. Still, it had its moments. The road is straight and flat, even as it goes up and down for miles  The crags of Arizona give way to softer hills in California. The scale of the roads expand, too.  The trucks are lost in the immenseness and closeness of the hills. The road steepens, and the Runaway Truck Ramp signs begin to appear.  They are on both sides of the road, with blockades where there isn't enough room to slow down.  I'm not sure how effective those metal barrels would be. There wasn't anything on the other side of that ramp, either.   The San Joaquin Valley feeds America. The greenery is an overwhelming contrast once you come down into the valley. Trees and more vines   and more trees line the roadside.   So does James Dean.   There are also oil rigs, dipping and raising and dipping a...

We're back from Sedona, Amster and I.  I'm not sure that we were influenced by the Birth Mother rock formation which loomed over our spa destination   but we are renewed, body and soul.  I'm in a quiet, reflective, at-one-with-nature place right now.  The sky seems bluer and my breath feels lighter.  I'm not saying that the presence of the vortex is with me, but something's sure going on. We drove up I-10 to I-17 and turned off at the Oak Creek/ Sedona exit and it was stunning.  Less than 100 yards from the exit the road turns and there they were red rocks (sedimentary formations filled with oxidizing iron ore which "rusts" and turns red) right in front of the road.  And to the left. And to the right.  And we could have stayed right there and been happy for an hour or so.  But we continued past the round-abouts and the galleries and the crystal shops and the psychic reading salons and, with the red rocks accompanying us, we wound our way...