Day Five: "These are nice trees."--Mike

We got up early this morning Day Five, had some birthday festivities for our roomie, and got on the road a little later than we would have liked. About an hour and a half out of San Francisco, we made a quick stop at California Carnivores, one of my very favorite places ever. On the grounds of a winery, it's a greenhouse in Sebastopol filled with carnivorous plants. We're talking Nepenthes hanging from every rafter, bogs full of sundews in every corner, and every flytrap and trumpet pitcher in between. I adore these beautiful and strange plants, and it was beyond great to be able to show Mike around the place a bit. You can be my witnesses: he promises to take me back in May with a budget and a mind to make our patio the sweetest (and most dangerous!) place ever.


We're staying tonight at the KOA campground just outside of Crescent City, in a little cabin in the middle of the redwoods. I won't say I'm not cold. I am. Very. I won't say that I'm not worried about bumps in the night (or growls, or scraping ghost chains). I am. Casually. But I will say that it's gorgeous here and that I am at peace. There's a little heater humming away in the corner of the room, an extremely friendly Southern California expatriate in the office, and did I mention that we're surrounded by redwoods?

I've always loved the redwoods. I love the velvety quiet of their forests, the way the crackle of footsteps on the fallen needles do no more disruption than the play of the wind in the trees. I love how secret, tiny trails invariably lead to the most beautiful grove around, the one with the thickest ferns, the most softly creeping sunlight, and the most intriguing smaller, more secret trails running further and further and further away. When I was small, I loved climbing onto a fallen giant, delighting in the tops of my parents' heads. My brother and I would seek out trees hollowed out by fire who were somehow, by some miracle, still reaching, immense and red and leafy, to the sky. Trees that fell, whether because of an axe or a fire or a gust of wind hitting just right on an ancient and weathered trunk, were welcomed to the forest floor with vigor and delight. Soon ferns and even new seedlings were springing from the broken trunk, joyously carrying on the work that older generations had started. Grow! they sang as they became taller and thicker, rings upon rings upon rings leaving record of their trials. Can you imagine that first touch of pure sunlight?


I am in awe of these trees. I'll be happy to sleep among them tonight and to listen to their encouragement long after they have faded from our rearview mirrors. Grow!

Today we listened to: "Two of Us" by Aimee Mann & Michael Penn, "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show, Her Majesty (The Decemberists), "Grace Cathedral Hill" by The Decemberists, Live at Massey Hall (Neil Young), more of On the Road, and the thip-thip of raindrops dripping from the trees to our windshield.

Mystery ask-us-about-it-when-we-get-home words for today: "headless Babe"

Mike's blog: astoriedyear.blogspot.com