Cabin in the Alps

Trinity Alps, that is. Way up north in California, off the 5 freeway, heading towards Mt. Shasta. We spent two magical days at my friend's cabin there, basically doing nothing -- or doing a lot, depending on how you look at it. Breathing in the mountain air. Swimming in a nearby creek. Making pancakes on a wood stove. Eating, talking, drinking. Listening to Bob Dylan's radio show (a wonder in its own right).

Now that all the driving, planning, schlepping, packing, unpacking, reading maps and whatnot is done, I feel like I can really enjoy our trip! I think there's a Rumi poem about that, something about only really loving a place when you're somewhere else and remembering that other place. Anyway, that sounds about right for me and my warped, delayed sense of reality.