“We skirted the canvas-green artichoke fields, following the two-lane Highway One, the Pacific pacing and snapping beyond the brown cliffs. The Emmits wanted to stop at the Pigeon Point lighthouse, but the lighthouse was closed. We got out anyway, walked across the ice plants, a variety of ground cover related to cactus. You break off a stub, and it oozes green. We stood watching the ocean, white gulls sprinkling the blue. The lighthouse was not in use as a navigational aid anymore, a sign said.... It could be visited between hours which were covered over with a neat rectangle of paper. Fields along the coast grow flowers for florists, acres of green with color just starting, pastels and half-tones, the blossoms not open yet. As soon as they are about to flower they are gone, shipped to town in plastic tubs. Wooden stands with hand-painted signs offer cherries and strawberries, although the strawberries were gone, now, replaced by olala berries and blackberries, and artichokes, the green thistles Dad steams and eats with butter, or with a special mayonnaise he makes himself.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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